A Song of Ice, Fire and Lightning
by Zero Rewind
Summary: My reward for beating the Demon Emperor and sending him back to hell? Finding myself in an unknown land, hounded by heralds of ice and fire, as well as the idiotic peoples of the lands in this... Westeros. Is it possible to find a way home? I don't know. Eventual Harry/Daenerys. As in way, way later. Stop asking when :P
1. A Different Earth

**Okay.** I had a little plotbunny bore its way through my head until I could ignore it no longer. The story will diverge from my own fanfiction **Lightning Dragon's Roar** at the end of Chapter 31.

For those of you that have been reading Lightning Dragon's Roar, know that I will still keep updating it. I've always enjoyed writing that story out, but I should be able to juggle these two easily.

For those of you that have never read Lightning Dragon's Roar, prepare for an information dump, because this won't be the stock canon Harry Potter that gets flung to Westeros, but the character I've been building.

I shall provide you with a detailed summary for Lightning Dragon's Roar, as well as Harry Potter's capabilities as a wizard.

 **OoOoOoO**

 **MUST READ IF YOU HAVEN'T READ LIGHTNING DRAGON'S ROAR OR YOU WILL NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!**

 **Summary of Lightning Dragon's Roar:**

During the summer after my Fourth Year at Hogwarts, Dudley approached me, apologizing for the way he treated me, and gave me his old computer, complete with an internet connection and many games. Needless to say, I spent the summer enjoying myself; anything to keep my mind off of Cedric's death.

In those days, I unlocked an ability which allowed me to ingest electricity. It made me stronger, faster, and enhanced my nervous system so much that time seemingly slowed down. I learned to enhance my bodily energies to inhuman levels, I used it to grow wings on my back and fly. I learned to harness the power of Lightning storms and use it for my own purposes.

What did I call this power?

My Lightning Dragonslayer Magic, after reading about it in a set of Japanese comics called Fairy Tail. I know, it sounds stupid, but that's exactly how it went down.

I was ambushed by Dementors, had to defend myself using magic, and was subsequently sent to a trial to atone for this so called "crime". It didn't work out as they planned; with some tedious planning beforehand, I argued that it was for self defense, and that, since I was being tried as an adult— also using the TriWizard tournament as proof that I was considered an adult— that I should have my underage restrictions lifted.

It was either that, or I would go to the press, knowing the people would eat up a story of the Boy Who Lived being oppressed by the government. If someone they held in high regard was to be treated this way, how would they fare in comparison?

It worked marvelously.

I spent my time at Hogwarts training, keeping my head down when the newest Professor, a woman by the name of Dolores Umbridge, made efforts to antagonize me in any way she could. I was level-headed throughout it all, my time in the summer having taught me that patience, perseverance and calm were the key to success.

I'll admit, however; those few months, as I was coming into my power, I became drunk with it, treating everyone around me with scorn and disdain. I even almost attacked Professor McGonagall out of sheer anger for her daring to give me detentions for training instead of attending class.

I know now that I was wrong to handle the situation in that manner, but what's done is done, and I can only hope she forgives me for my behavior.

Around that time, Hagrid got me a snake; a black viper named Balthazar. I can't say the snake took a liking to me, as every other word that came out of his mouth was an insult.

Hermione formed some group, and roped me into teaching my peers how to fight. It was a pretty wretched experience, I have to admit; though I did learn that Neville had power beyond anything I imagined.

He controlled the very earth, you see, shaping it to his will and manipulating it with ease. He'd hid this power his whole life. How he ever managed to control himself every time Malfoy had said something that irked him was beyond me.

I couldn't even control myself when speaking to McGonagall, back then. I wish I had his patience.

Then came Christmas. Things took a turn when my friend's father, Arthur Weasley, was bitten by Voldemort's snake, Nagini. I had seen the event through the snake's eyes, and something happened. I learned that Voldemort resided within my very soul; so I fought the soul fragment, pitting my own soul against it.

Through some ridiculous circumstances, I cleansed my body of his presence and lost my link to the man, though I retained my ability to speak the language of snakes, strangely enough— all the better, or I wouldn't be able to speak to Balthazar any longer.

On Christmas Day itself, while Dumbledore and I were visiting Arthur Weasley at St-Mungo's, Voldemort initiated a three-pronged attack. The vile man mobilized his forces, and attacked Diagon Alley, Azkaban Prison and St-Mungo's.

After we dealt with the scum there, we went to aid the Order at Azkaban Prison, and found ourselves facing at least a hundred enemy wizards. However, we came in using stealth, and conjured many snakes to take the majority of them down. With the pouring rain, the snakes quickly overcame most of the men; Dumbledore and I engaged the rest, dispatching them as fast as we could before Voldemort turned his attention to us.

When we finished, everything was quiet.

A Demonness had appeared, with Voldemort as her thrall. Words were exchanged, and Dumbledore fell to her magic. She tried to do the same to me, but my skin burned her, just like with Quirrell. I tried to fight against her, but I was so tired and weary.

When everything seemed at its worst, Dumbledore had saved my life, and Voldemort had lifted me to my feet. I still don't believe it, but the three of us stood against her, and we fought. It was a hard win, forcing me to call down the power of the storms above to strike this Demonness down.

After the battle, Voldemort owed me a life debt, and I made him swear never to kill me. Dumbledore had looked on incredulously, as Tom Riddle quickly agreed, sealing the debt between us, before promptly leaving.

With Voldemort's return proven, Umbridge had promptly been sacked. My patience paid off.

In the time that followed, and with a heart that yearned for adventure, I decided I would not attend Hogwarts any longer. I was filthy rich, and so had no need for an education. I didn't care. My only wish was to get stronger, end Voldemort, and live out the rest of my days seeking adventure anywhere I could find it.

With Dumbledore having aided in my training at school, I knew I could take on most seasoned Aurors and Voldemort's most powerful men without the use of my Lightning Dragonslayer Magic. With it? Well... The hundreds of people I had killed were proof enough, weren't they?

I would be a liar if I said I didn't enjoy the battles, or killing the scum terrorizing the people. I comforted myself knowing I would never harm innocents, telling myself that I was doing the right thing to save everyone.

Hollow words, of course. I enjoyed killing them; I felt the satisfaction as I pierced through their bodies with my Lightning.

Not that it matters, anyway.

I heard of an ancient tower called Temen Ni Gru. Lilith, the Demonness we had fought, was alive, and there. Later, I learned that the tower was a gateway to the Demon World, sealed by an ancient Demon knight who rebelled against his own kind— the point is, the bitch was trying to open the gate to hell again.

So I went there to stop her.

Balthazar came along with me, an ability spawning within him: he became able to merge with my right arm, covering it with his black scales. The armored arm was strong enough to withstand the bladed weapons of the Demons swinging them.

I fought through hordes of vicious Demons and even managed to subdue one of their higher ranking members. Erebus, the progenitor of Dementors. I beat him with a Lightning enhanced Patronus. Any other Demon of his ranking would have destroyed me, I imagine.

Erebus transformed into a sword— a pure black Falchion— giving me limited control over Ice and something called Darkness, though I never did figure out what Darkness was. To be honest, it all sounded like emo gibberish to me, before Erebus had explained what the Darkness was.

But that's a story for another time.

With the help of Erebus and Balthazar, I went up the Temen Ni Gru to put a stop to Lilith. At the top, I met a half-Demon named Dante, and later, after we went to the Demon World, his brother Vergil, who was attempting to flee from the Demon Emperor Mundus, after killing Lilith in a show of speed I did not think was possible, so fast that my enhanced senses could not follow him.

Knowing that even this man who easily beat Lilith, who herself outclassed me, wanted to run from the Demon Emperor, I followed him and Dante into the portal.

But, something happened.

The Emperor stopped our travel, and we fought him, in between the worlds. It took all of our combined powers, but we managed to send the equivalent of a sucker punch at the powerful Demon, sending it back to its own realm.

The battle may have been over, but the Emperor of Demons was not done quite yet.

The world was awash in a myriad of colors as the attack slammed right into Mundus' three eyes, overpowering the Demon's defenses instantly, and sending the gigantic being flying back outside of the portal.

Our trip through the portal resumed its course, and I let my Lightning wings dissipate. My two allies reverted back into their human forms, removing their hands from my arm.

I felt so tired, just then. So dizzy and weak. All I wanted to do was fall asleep.

"You might have beaten me this day..." Mundus' voice boomed as we began moving through the gateway, flying past stars at great speeds, though not as fast as we were going originally.

My body jerked to a stop, and I noticed the startled gazes of Dante and Vergil, who simply sped off into the distance, incapable of stopping themselves to save me from Mundus' clutches.

"But you shall die in this void. In between worlds." Mundus sounded satisfied with himself. "Your human body will wither away to dust. How does it feel to lose, even when you win?"

I felt hot anger claw through my haze of dizziness, granting me a temporary clarity of thought.

I grabbed hold of Erebus, and desperately slashed into the fabric of the void between portals, trying to open a rift. Nothing happened.

I tried again.

Nothing.

Mundus' mocking laughter rang in the endless void.

I growled angrily, and slashed one final time, pouring all of my power, despair and fear into the strike.

A rift opened below me, and I fell into it. I didn't hear Mundus' roar of impotent rage as I fell into darkness, away from the void in between gates, and away from Nevernever, to an unknown destination altogether.

 **OoOoOoO**

 **Harry's Powers** :

Wand Magic (Just slightly weaker than Snape or Moody)

 **Lightning Dragonslayer Magic:**  
1) **Lightning Dragon's Roar** : an adjustable frontal area of effect blast shot from the mouth.  
2) **Edge** : Lightning drill forming around Harry's hand.  
3) **Breakdown Fist** : punches and kicks enhanced with Lightning to give them a little more _oomph._  
4) **Lightning Blades:** small to medium sized swords made of Lightning that Harry can shoot at will.

 **Balthazar:**  
1) **Armored Scales** : his right arm covered with scales, strong enough to shrug off sword strikes with ease.  
2) **Venom** : Harry's palm has a hole which can spray venom at the target, its corrosive properties melting flesh very quickly.

 **Erebus** :  
Progenitor of Dementors, the blade's sheer presence exudes an aura of cold.  
1) **Dark Stream:** the element of Darkness shoots out like water from a hose, consuming everything in its path.

 **OoOoOoO**

 **WITH THAT SAID, LET THE STORY BEGIN!**

 **oooooooooo**  
 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 1: A Different Earth**

How long had it been, a century, or a few seconds? I didn't know.

The feeling of time was skewed to me, though I still understood the concepts of present, past and future.

The past... Something sought to make me forget, to revert my mind to a childlike state. No, it was worse than that. It was as if whatever was here was trying to make me forget everything, so I could be its mindless slave, no doubt.

I resisted, of course. I refused to be cowed by whoever it was that controlled this world. All I saw around me was the darkness, and guess what? My sword, Erebus, was the Emperor of Darkness.

I sensed the being's surprise as I usurped its control of the void around us. I began to feel cold, but smiled to myself— though I could not see it due to the all consuming darkness— and wrested the control over that element as well.

It fought for control, and I knew, even with my usurping its domain, that it would eventually regain its bearings and attack once more. I would grow weaker and hungrier from the strain, while I had no idea what it was capable of.

So I brought forth the power within my own body.

Lightning answered my call, and the Darkness around me shrieked in pain and fright as the bluish white light hit it. With the light, my sight came back as well, and I looked at my normal left hand, my black scaled right hand, and the sword at my side for a few moments, before looking forward, to the source of whatever it was that had tried to control me.

From the Darkness ahead, I only saw one thing. A pair of ice cold, blue eyes, staring me down as the Darkness snarled at me in defiance, before slinking away, far away from me.

Those deadly eyes... They frightened me.

Had I not steeled my soul enough at Temen Ni Gru?

No, this was different than personal fear. Those eyes were something else, entirely. Those eyes hated the living, hated the vibrancy of the world. They hated the sound of newborn children. They hated the growth of trees, flowers, crops and weeds. They hated life, itself.

They wanted to make it all end.

They wanted to drown the world in death and stillness.

And that frightened me a hundred times more than the Emperor of Demons ever did.

"What was that..." I said, as the void behind me lit up in red.

I turned to see a man, wearing a large, voluminous red robe. His face was hidden underneath a hood. It scrutinized me for a few moments— or were they years? I couldn't even tell— before extending his hand to me.

But I took a step back. Another trick of the Darkness? Or maybe an ally?

It didn't matter. I was sick of this farce.

The stange person took a step forward, as if pleading.

I took another step back, and flared my power in challenge to this newcomer.

"Not one step further, or I'll kill you where you stand." I said, my voice echoing in the void as I drew Erebus forth.

An angry cry came from the priest in red at the sight of the Falchion and, it too scurried away, just like the Darkness had before it.

Good riddance.

 _§These beings.§_ Balthazar hissed from my hand, and I shook my head in disbelief over it, still not used to having my hand talk. _§I don't trust them.§_

" _Agreed."_ Erebus said. " _The first creature was almost too much to bear. I believe it would have won the battle had you not unleashed your own powers."_

Bit by bit, I began to gain hold of my senses as my surroundings slowly shifted once more. The last thing I saw from the void were a group of children that simply waved as I faded from their realm.

Who were they? Who was the red priest? And what the hell was that Darkness with icy blue eyes?

I looked around.

Where was I?

I seemed to be in the middle of a forest, though, where that forest was, I had no idea. I heard the sounds of birds and rodents flying and scurrying around respectively, both in search of food.

I frowned as I rubbed at my nose slightly.

Everything just smelled so crisp and fresh; not even the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts smelled like this, and it was more removed from civilization than anything I was aware of— with the exception of the village of Hogsmeade, of course.

"I couldn't have emerged near civilization?" I pinched the bridge of my nose in irritation, before taking stock of all I had. My shirt had been torn off in the fight against Mundus, but that was fine— I magicked up a black shirt easily enough.

In one of my pockets, I still had my burn paste, my Murtlap Essence, and my wand. In the other, there was a featherweight sack, filled with as many Galleons as I could fit inside it, in case for emergencies just like this.

" _Something feels strange."_ Erebus rattled slightly as I began to look for signs of a road, or a city. Hell, even a cabin would have sufficed. " _The energy around us... I have lived for many generations, and have understood the underlying forces of the universe quite intimately. However, it is different here. Similar, but different as well. I do not understand."_

"So?" I questioned offhandedly I kept going through the forest, seeing a few deer in the distance. I carelessly walked in their direction, watching them as they noticed my presence and fled.

Heh. I wasn't even going to do anything to them. Sheesh.

Erebus stayed silent, but I felt the Devil Arm wanted to speak its mind.

"What exactly are you trying to say, Erebus?" I asked directly. "That we have no control over our powers?"

" _No. No."_ Erebus refuted. " _Our own powers are internal and not subject to the magic of this world."_

I understood.

"You're saying that whatever we face will have magic different than anything you or I have ever witnessed.

" _Indeed_." Erebus said. " _Much like that being of cold and Darkness. It felt familiar to me, but at the same I had never encountered any of its like. I'm afraid that... But it's just not possible. It can't be."_

"What's not possible?" I asked, and a few moments passed before Erebus answered.

" _You must give me time to gather my thoughts."_ Erebus said, and I felt its power connecting with the air, the earth around us, communing with it. " _I will give you an answer when I, myself, reach one."_

I nodded.

"Fair enough, Erebus." I said with a sigh, before addressing Balthazar. _§You stay attached to my arm, Balthazar; it's a little cold here and I would rather not waste any power on heating charms of any kind.§_

 _§That's all right. Your body heat and the shirt is quite enough for now, anyway.§_ Balthazar said, and I got the feeling that he was lounging around... wherever he went when he merged with me. Shaking my head in amusement, I kept making my way through the woods, enjoying the beauty of the nature around me.

It was like this place hadn't been touched by man for many ages, allowing nature to carve out a beautiful forest. Such a sight was very rare to someone like me, who had grown in the suburbs for his whole life, and then had a few years at Hogwarts, never really appreciating the wilderness there.

I blinked and turned my head to the side, trying to focus on my hearing as best I could.

Over the sound of birds and the swaying of the leaves, I heard the sound of running water, and grinned. It took a few more moments, but I pinpointed its source, and moved towards it, and found a large river.

This was good. Rivers meant villages or cities. Cities meant I could exchange my gold for cash, book a plane, and go home. Even with my ability to fly, I doubted I could fly over oceans and continents just to get home.

No, this was the easier way.

 _§You should fly up.§_ Balthazar suggested. _§Get above these trees to figure out where you are, and where the nearest town is.§_

I smiled, and nodded, not having thought of that.

 _§Good plan, Balthazar. Thanks.§_ I hissed out.

 _§Thank me by feeding me some mice, later.§_ Balthazar hissed back.

I agreed, starting to feel my fatigue catching up to me. After I had absorbed Mundus' power, it had healed my wounds, but I had shot it all right back at him, depleting most of my reserves in the process.

Heh. Sucker punching that fucker was the best thing I had ever done in my life, even more epic than the time I summoned Lightning from the storms above Azkaban.

Still, I was tired. I needed to find a town, a meal and a place to stay.

With those thoughts, the forest around me grew brighter as my bluish white Lightning exited from my back, forming into a set of wings.

I smiled. Air Raid was the damn best skill I had ever learned, I thought as my wings flapped furiously, sending me up, up and up; higher and higher.

I quickly rose past the treetops, and kept flying higher for at least a minute, refusing to look at anything until I gained enough altitude.

And when I did, I gaped.

As far as my eyes could see, there was unblemished earth, untouched by the ravages of corporations. It was an amazing sight, completely foreign to anyone who's grown up in the twentieth/twenty-first century.

"Where the hell am I?" I said more to myself than anything, before looking down. The river I had found looked pretty small from where I currently floated. I followed its line and saw that the river emerged from a large lake in... the north east? Yes, the north east, assuming I knew my astronomy right, which I did.

At the northern shore of the lake, stood a tall castle, in complete contrast to the untouched forest and wildlife around it.

Unless I was in the... medieval age.

"Did we go through time?" I asked immediately, staring at the castle for a few more seconds before flying towards it. The wind whipped in my hair and carressed my face as I reduced my altitude so that I flew slightly above the treetops.

It wouldn't do if anyone saw me and asked questions.

" _Worse."_ Erebus said as I landed in the forest, as close to the castle as I could get. " _I do not think we are on Earth any longer."_

"Not on... Earth?" I repeated his words, remembering those leaked files I had read online. "We're on an alien planet? I thought there was no life anywhere else! How could we have moved so far?"

It was possible. Heavy hits were exchanged between Mundus, Dante, Vergil and I in between the Realms. The Emperor had summoned storms of Lightning, whole meteor showers, and a multitude of energy beams— all simultaneously. The being was so powerful that I had no doubt that we would wake up anywhere.

" _No, even worse than that!_ " Erebus continued, brushing off my revelation with his anger— and was that a hint of desperation in his tone? " _I cannot detect my Realm of Darkness, or any of my children. The universe's forces feel different. We are not home."_

"Not home." I repeated again, a sudden feeling of dread in me as I frowned in frustration. "What do you mean, not home? That's not possible!"

" _Not home."_ Erebus said again. " _A completely different world, another existence aside from our own. Another universe, parallel to that of our own. Similar enough that it didn't tear us to shreds, but different enough that I can easily perceive."_

"No." I said again. "I don't believe it. It's not possible; there's no way it can be."

" _Then, what were those beings that attempted to hoodwink us into their service?"_ Erebus pressed on as the great castle came within view. " _The Darkness and the red priest? And those children."_

"I don't understand." I stopped and shook my head. "It's not possible."

Empty words, I knew from the bottom of my heart. When it concerned me, anything that could go wrong usually did. Why shouldn't this be the exact same?

A lump began to form in my throat as I thought about my friends and family.

Sirius and Tristan... Tristan had lost an eye to Lilith, and Sirius had taken him for medical aid. The last thing Daphne had done was slap me, before kissing me and running. I could still remember her soft lips on mine, and it made me all the sadder.

" _We are not home!"_ Erebus insisted again. " _Enough of your foolishness! The truth is right in front of you, but you choose not to see it!"_

"I..." I started in anger, before shaking my head and closing my eyes, releasing a tendril of Lightning to the world, linking with it for the barest of moments.

In that moment, I felt them all; the Darkness and Cold, far to the North, the children all around me, the red priest, far to the east, a man with seven faces near me, but concentrated far more to the south, another man with many faces to the east.

They all looked back.

I ended the connection.

" _You see...?"_ Erebus asked quietly. " _We are not home."_

Not home. He was right. Even with my limited experience with understanding the world around me through energy, everything still felt off, skewed somehow, though I could not put my finger on it.

This was a completely different world to the one I was in.

"I..." I said, stammering slightly. "What about everyone? What about Sirius, Daphne? What about Ron and Hermione and all of the Weasleys? God... What about Dumbledore and Voldemort?"

" _I don't know."_ Erebus said honestly. " _I have never heard tales of dimension travellers. I only know of the existence of other dimensions."_

"So—what?" I almost yelled out at the dark blade. "We're stranded here? Is that what you're trying to say?"

" _Yes._ " Erebus said without preamble or tact. " _And you'd best get a hold of yourself and figure out what to do from here._ "

I was about to snarl back at the Devil Arm, but sighed; he was right, of course.

 _§It's all right.§_ Balthazar added. _§I'm here.§_

I nodded, swallowed down the lump in my throat and wiped my tears with the sleeve of my shirt, glad to have an understanding companion in this.

I took a deep breath, and examined my attire, comparing it to that of the red priest and the children I had seen in between worlds. The children had worn tunics, while the priest had a voluminous red robe on.

Tunics it was.

I Vanished the shirt I was wearing, before conjuring a dark green tunic in its place. I made it out of cotton, since it was the only thing I was truly familiar with. Old tunics were made from wool or linen, but I had no idea how those felt.

Cotton was much more comfortable, anyway. I put the tunic on and exited the forest to search for the castle's gates. The castle itself had stone walls thirty feet high with square towers at each corner, with a sprawling city surrounding it— an impressive sight as I circle the thing in search of the entrance.

A few minutes later, I did.

It was a large gate, with cobblestone road exiting out of it for what I assumed would be a few miles before the cobblestone gave way to dirt— no one ever really cared to thoroughly create proper roads, even in my day and age, let alone this medieval-like age.

There were two guards posted at one of the entrances, and they stared at me as I approached the gate. When I got within ten feet of them, they drew their weapons and stepped forward threateningly.

"Halt!" The one on the left said. "Who goes there?"

And so began a new chapter in my life.

 **ooooooooooo**

What do you think? :)


	2. Where Am I?

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 2: Where Am I?  
**

It had taken a lot of convincing, but I managed to get the city guards to let me in, claiming to be a traveler from the East who had been knocked unconscious while running away from some bandits.

Luckily, these people spoke English, or I would have been royally screwed.

It was also fortunate that my speech was different than theirs. Strangely enough, they spoke in northern English accents, though their terminology was old, something I would have expected from someone in the Middle Age. It reminded me of some books in the Hogwarts Library which were written in this manner.

A little difficult to understand, but not impossible; something which led credence to my story, considering foreigners who hadn't mastered the language took a few moments, carefully choosing their words so as not to sound like idiots.

Of course, with my modern vernacular, some words I used were completely lost on them. I adapted fairly quickly, I thought an hour later as I voraciously tore into a plate of steak and potatoes. The owner of the establishment in the city grounds— a man who looked to be well in his fifties, with balding grey hair and a large, fuzzy beard— had given me a strange look at the request, but complied at the sight of the small stack of Knuts I had placed on the counter.

After a few questions, and my assurances that the coin I had was authentic copper, the owner took only two, handing me the rest as he went to work, preparing the food.

An honest man; I was half expecting him to take it without question. It was a refreshing thing to see; people with integrity, I meant.

I took a short break from the food, thinking about how I got here as I idly chewed on one of the potatoes— it wasn't quite cooked, but I didn't really give it much thought, more concerned of the method with which I got there.

The guards at the gate had told me I was someplace called Torrhen's Square. I pretended I understood and gave a few fake smiles of relief, and they ended up letting me in out of general pity and amusement at the situation.

As to I how I arrived here...

Mundus and I were in-between Realms, and the Demon Emperor had trapped me there, thinking that, while he may have lost the battle, he still ensured his eventual victory.

My hand trembled slightly as I realized I might have starved to death. Or, did the laws of physics even apply to me in there? Perhaps I would have lived forever, in between the realms, unable to contact anyone I knew.

There was no way to tell, I thought as I shook my head.

I had torn a rift with Erebus; the **Dark Rift** , a way to enter a realm that was closely intertwined with my own. The one I used to be in, I meant.

Could I do it again, here?

" _No._ " Erebus' voice was heard, and I quickly looked around, making sure no one was listening.

" _I am speaking in your mind."_ Erebus answered with amusement. " _The Dark Rift will not gain us entry to our home world."_

So it is impossible, I thought.

" _I do not know."_ Erebus replied. " _At the very least, we should take stock of our situation and attempt to find the higher powers of this world."_

How were we supposed to do that?

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind me. I turned to see a few unsavoury looking men, eying me hungrily— more specifically, the pocket I had pulled my coins out of. They must have heard the heavy jingling of coin.

Hah, thieves, here? Not that they could open my pocket to begin with, seeing as it was enchanted to open only to me.

It would take a wizard of some skill, as the general dispels like " _Finite Incantatem_ " did not work— assuming there were other wizards here, at all.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked lightly, still munching on the potato as if there were no cares to be had in the world.

The man scratched his head, looked at his friends, turned to the owner who gave him a stern, almost angry look, before shaking his head and backing off.

"The stupidest thief on the planet." I half-smiled, despite my own feelings of despair at my situation. "In plain day, trying to steal."

"I would not judge him so harshly, er..." The owner gave me a quizzical look, not knowing my name.

"Harry Potter." I answered, seeing no need to go by any other name.

"I can't say I have heard of House Potter." The owner said, scratching his chin. "Are you from the Westerlands?"

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I shook my head. "Ah, no. I come from a land far in the East, to learn of the cultures of this continent."

The owner of the inn nodded, satisfied with the information. "Then, later you will feast on a dish of my choosing—a personal favorite of mine. I trust you'll be spending the night?"

I nodded. "Of course. How much is it?"

I had nowhere else to go, anyway.

"I don't rightly know." The inn keeper said. "I'm afraid that the coin you have is quite different to the coin we use. In our coinage, it is twenty five coppers a night."

I winced. "Do you know anyone who can exchange what currency I have for your local coins?"

"Ah." The old man said, scratching his bearded face slightly. "It is near the center of the town, in the Market Square; simply make a right as you exit the inn and walk straight forward. It is no local shop, but rather, a travelling tradesman with a cart. He calls himself 'the collector'."

I hid a grimace. The guy would probably swindle the crap out of me, knowing that the currency I was using would not be accepted anywhere.

" _Just get some of these coins so I can understand their shape, size and make, and I'll convert your own, for you."_ Erebus interrupted my thoughts with his own.

I perked up at the information, before giving the inn keeper a nod, dismissing him so I could finish the last few bits of my meal. I patted my stomach in satisfaction, before sneaking a look at the cupful of alochol I had gotten. Mead, I thought, as I took a sip.

Tasted a little like honey, and it wasn't really refreshing— but I drank the thing anyway, not really feeling the alcohol take hold of my senses, even as I found myself asking for another. Another thing I was immune to, I imagined?

I finished the second cup, before thanking the inn keeper and telling him I would be back. The trip to this tradesman took some time, as the town was quite large, all things considered.

I passed by the local men, women and children of the city, giving them all nods, and trying to keep as friendly of a demeanor as I could; but they gave me strange looks, regardless.

Why was that?

" _Could be because you're cleaner than the soap they use."_ Erebus pointed out, and that's when I understood. The people looked dirty, like they hadn't bathed in days, possibly weeks, while my own scouring charm did the work to clean me up.

They must have thought I was someone of importance, or something.

I sighed, figuring that it was too late to magic up some dirt to cover me at this point. Questions would be asked, and questions lead to trouble— something I was hoping to avoid for the time being.

The square castle ahead looked even larger when I went closer to the town's center.

The sound of shuffling feet, and general silence of the alleyway gave way to the shouts of merchants and customers alike, haggling over the various products being sold.

I noticed a few shop names as I walked around for a while, listening in to other people's conversations. Tomreth's Tuns, a wine shop. Master Roff's Bronzeworks, a jeweler's shop. A large building with a seven pointed star symbol on its entrance.

I kept on listening.

Learning.

So the currencies were gold dragons, silver stags and copper stars. Or was it copper pennies and silver moons? It was a little confusing. I decided I would ask this collector.

After a few more minutes of being confused and lost, I approached a random stall and asked one of the many merchants where the collector was. The merchant in question, a fat man with very chubby cheeks, gave me a glare before pointing to a medium sized cart, with a bored looking, middle aged man behind it.

He didn't shout, he didn't try to get any attention from the masses which were browsing.

How strange, I thought as I approached the man.

Perhaps my estimation of middle-age was a bit erroneous. Closer up, he looked a lot younger than I originally though; twenty five, maybe? What I had thought to be the beginnings of white bleeding into the man's black hair was actually a small strip of cloth that had been stuck to his hair without him noticing.

His face was shaved, though it looks like he got cut many times in the process, judging by the many scabs on his neck.

He laid his eyes on me for a few moments, before straightening ever so slightly.

"May I help you, my friend?" He said with a fake smile.

I stifled an eye-roll and spoke. "I was told by one of the inn keepers that you are a collector of sorts."

"This is true." The man said, leaning forward, not looking as bored as he did a moment past. "I assume you have some rare item?"

I smiled for a short moment, before digging into my featherweight pouch and pulling out a handful of golden galleons, placing them in front of the man.

"My..." He said, grabbing one of the coins and examining it, before taking a quick bite, and then nodding in confirmation to himself. "Where did you get this from?"

"Found it all in an abandoned temple to the East." I said, the words coming to me easily. "What do you think it is?"

"I am not sure." He said as he looked at the engraved image of a dragon. "Perhaps relics of the great empire of Old Valyria."

I didn't know what the great empire of Old Valyria was, but it sure sounded impressive. I decided I would go with it.

"Could very well be." I shrugged. "I just want to sell them, to be honest. Are you interested?"

The merchant seemed to be struggling to hold his excitement. I stifled another grin and pretended I was bored with the whole exchange.

"I might be."

"Then let's do business." I said. "What's your offer?"

"Three hundred gold dragons." The man said, opening one of the stall's many drawers and pulling out a few large pouches of jingling coins. "More than generous considering the worth of the gold in the coins."

"May I see?" I asked politely, and received one of the pouches in response. I opened it, and gazed on the coin in the inside. The man was right, the worth of the gold he offered was a lot more than the worth of the handful of galleons I showed him.

"Hm." I nodded. "I shall take this as payment, though..."

"Yes?" The merchant said, a little warily.

"I wish for an explanation on the currencies of this land, as well." I said slowly. "I became slightly confused when talk of silver stags, silver moons, copper pennies and copper stars reached my ears."

"Ah." The man smiled knowingly. "Not an altogether strange question, though, this far up north... No matter."

And he began explaining to me how the currency system seemed to work. He said that the coinage used is all based on the gold dragon coin, which had two smaller denominations, silver stag coins and copper pennies, while the rest were just coins from older times; still being used, but slowly on their way to become obsolete.

It went as such.

1 gold dragon was worth 210 silver stags.

1 silver stag was worth 56 copper pennies.

As for stars and moons, well; a star was worth 8 pennies and a moon was worth 7 stags.

I nodded to myself, asking for a silver stag and a copper penny on top of the three hundred gold dragons, as well as a general map of the regions, if he had one.

"I don't see why not. I keep a few spares in case I lose my own personal map." The merchant accepted, pulling out said coins and map, handing me the rest of the bags as I gave him a respectful nod, before leaving. Immediately after, I made my way to a nearby empty alleyway, placing all of the coins in my featherweight pouch which was full of galleons, sickles and knuts.

"You think you can do it?" I asked after a few moments of silence, map still in my left hand.

I would look at it later.

" _Child's play."_ The sword rattled as I felt it exercise its will upon the contents of my pouch. A few moments later, the flow of energy stopped. " _It is done._ "

I dug my hand into the pouch, pulling out a handful of coins. Instead of sickles, I had silver stags. Instead of galleons, I had gold dragons. I nodded in satisfaction, before pocketing the money and making to leave.

"Well, well." A group of dirty looking men looked at me with grins of anticipation. "What have we here? An errant son of a Lord, lost in the city?"

"No." I denied, sounding a little bored. "i'm not a noble."

"You sure look noble enough." The guy on the right said, looking me up and down. "You're prettier than most girls."

I shivered in slight disgust at his leer.

"Maybe most girls that are desperate enough to talk to you. You look like a dog shat down your face." I retorted, and the man's companions were taken aback for a moment, before snickering at the leader.

"Shut up!" He said, and, instead of stopping, they started laughing harder— at least until he slapped one in the face so hard he spun and fell on his hands and knees, disoriented by the blow. "Anyone else want to have some laughs?"

No one said anything.

I frowned, and looked at these men. Honestly, it looked as if they hadn't eaten in days. The grime and dirt on them only added to it.

I took pity on them.

"Look." I said, grabbing their attention. "You lot can go. I won't hold it against you."

"I'm afraid we won't do as you say, little lordling." The leader cut in with a vicious grin. "Now hand over your—"

That was as far as he got before I crossed the distance between us and drove my fist into his stomach, channeling a bit of Lightning to give him a light shock. He keeled over, his breath unwillingly leaving his body as he gasped for air which just wouldn't enter his lungs.

He tried to move, but his muscles wouldn't obey. He simply fell to his side, random parts of his body still spasming sporadically.

"As I was saying." I glared down at the man, before staring at his men with a bit less vehemence. "You may leave."

They stared dumbly at me.

"I said go!" I shouted, and they scurried away like rats.

I smirked at the absurdity of it. Grown men running away from a sixteen year old boy.

The sound of light scuffling reached my ears, and I looked down to see the thieves' leader trying to crawl away from me— albeit very slowly.

I stepped on his left calf, hard.

He cringed and yelped as the pressure almost cracked the bone.

"Please, milord." He begged. "I swear I will never do it again."

"Is that so?" I said lightly, pressing down harder.

"Yes! Yes! Please!" He almost screamed out.

"Maybe I should turn you in to the relevant authorities, so they can make sure." I kept on going.

"No!" He almost bellowed but quieted down when I put some more pressure on his leg. "Anything but that. They would take my hand, or force me to take the black!"

"Take the black?" I repeated. "Explain."

And so came a rudimentary explanation of a group of fighters at a place called the Wall, a supposedly gigantic wall— over seven hundred feet, if the man were to be believed— made out of ice, far to the north. According to him, the Wall kept the kingdom safe from tribes of savages called the wildlings, and life as a "Man of the Night's Watch" was a miserable existence: unable to father children, claim inheritances or earn glory. The sentence for desertion was death.

"Please!" He kept begging. "Mercy! Mercy."

I rolled my eyes and lifted my foot. "Go on."

"Thank you, milord!" He made to kiss my feet, but I kicked him away.

"Just go! You disgust me." I said and walked away, stopping myself from swearing up a storm as I made my way back to the inn I was staying.

There was a bard, now, likely having come in the time I was away, and he was singing a song while playing what was probably the predecessor of the guitar— possibly the predecessor of the predecessor. Heh.

The inn keeper gave me a nod, as I pulled out seven silver stags, placing them in front of the man. "This should cover me for.. a few weeks, I believe?"

"Indeed." The inn keeper confirmed, pocketing the coin. "I shall have my son take you to your room."

"Sounds fine." I nodded.

"Edmund!" The inn keeper called out, and waited. A cry of "coming!" was heard, before I heard the shuffling of feet against the wooden floor. A boy, looking to be about my age, emerged from a back room, moving past the dancing bard and addressing his father.

"Yes, father?" The boy asked, giving me a sidelong glance.

"Take this man to our top-most room." The inn keeper said, and waved the boy off.

The boy, Edmund, nodded and turned to me. "Follow me."

I did; the sound of the bard's instrument was muffled as Edmund led me a few flights up, before we reached a single door. I heard the sound of jingling metal as he fished out a key from his pocket, before opening the door.

I followed him in.

It was nothing extravagant. There was a bed, a table and a chair, with a window overlooking the streets and a... chamber pot at the side— I had to take a shit in that? Ugh.

With that said, the room didn't have to be overly extravagant. All I needed was the privacy and shelter this room provided.

As for the chamber pot... I figured I could just Vanish the shit. If he asked questions I would just say I like doing it in the woods out of town. Doubted he'd question it.

"Dinner shall be served in an hour's time, if you wish to join us, milord." Edmund said after a few moments of silence.

"I am no lord." I denied. "Edmund, was it?"

He nodded, his expression bleeding into relief.

"You seemed a little tense, there." I said curiously. "The lords in this land are not kind to you?"

"Ah." Edmund said with a bit of hesitation. "The lords don't exactly starve us or hit us or anything. They're just... lords. You get my meaning?"

"Act like they're better than you because of their high birth?" I tried, and the boy nodded emphatically. "I understand. No, Edmund. I am no lord. My name's Harry."

I held out my hand, and Edmund stared at it for a few seconds, before grinning and giving it a strong shake.

"I'll be happy to join you all for dinner." I said and made to sit in the chair, placing the map on the table and unfurling it, before turning back to the boy. "Right after I finish my work."

That seemed to bring the boy back to reality.

"Oh!" He looked embarrassed. "I forgot to tie one of customer's horses in the stable!" He ran off.

I chuckled and shook my head, before closing the door and locking it.

I sat down and looked at this map.

If there were still any doubts about the legitimacy of my situation, this map cleared it all up. Strangely enough, it was also written in English. It made sense, I supposed. The two universes couldn't be very different— even in language.

"Torrhen's Square... Torrhen's Square." I repeated the name of the place I was supposed to be at, but couldn't find it anywhere.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Okay, Potter. Think. The inn keeper talked about Westerlands... Oh, there it is, good." I put my finger at the westernmost part of the map the center west of the continent. "It's literally the westerlands."

My eyes lingered on its capital city, Lannisport near something called Casterly Rock, before I resumed my study of the map.

"Okay, the idiot who tried to steal from me said there's a wall to the north of here..." And he was right, there was a thick, rectangular white border which completely cut the highest point north from the rest of the continent. Its name? The Wall.

Below the Wall, a few city names I heard from the market popped up. Winterfell. White Harbor. Barrowton— oh! Torrhen's square. So this is where I was.

In "The North".

"What kind of country name is 'the North', anyway?" I shook my head. "What's all that above the wall? The More North? The North North?"

 _§At least we know where we are.§_ Balthazar, who had been silent this whole time, hissed out.

 _§You're right.§_ I hissed back, before switching to English. "What do we do? What's the plan?"

" _Obviously, the 'endgame', as you say._ " Erebus started. " _Is to find a way to our home realm."_

I nodded, knowing that much.

" _To that end, I would suggest seeking out a book shop in the marketplace here."_ Erebus said. " _I would like to have more information on this Wall of ice."_

I nodded, understanding the logic behind his statement. "Yeah, it sounds like the only thing worth checking out, so far. The thief said that the Wall held back tribes of savages further north, but I don't think you'd need a seven hundred foot wall to stop a bunch of tribesment who probably don't have anything more advanced than sharpened sticks and stones..."

" _We are to tread carefully, Dragonslayer."_ Erebus warned. " _I suspect the land beyond the Wall would be very dangerous for us."_

"How do you figure?" I asked curiously, not really having formulated my thoughts on the matter. "You think these 'wildlings' pose any threat to us? You have to be kidding me."

" _Not the tribesmen."_ Erebus denied in what sounded like a rebuking tone. " _The cold Darkness with the blue eyes."_

And suddenly I understood.

"You're right." I breathed, not having considered that. "Where else would the perpetuator of frozen death and darkness be but the ice cap of this world, this 'North North', as it were?"

 _§Please tell me we're not calling it that.§_ Balthazar said with irritation.

 _§And why not? It's short, concise. North North, which is north of The North.§_ I argued the point, suppressing a grin as I felt the scales on my right arm writhe in agitation.

 _§It's redundant!§_ Balthazar said. _§I didn't learn seven different languages so I could communicate like an idiot. You can't possibly—§_

 _§It's decided.§_ I hissed out, cutting the snake's rant. "We're calling it North North."

I had the impression my sword Erebus was shaking its nonexistent head. " _Yes. Of course. The... er... North North_ _is likely the place of power of these creatures of ice."_

Balthazar silently raged, but we ignored him for the moment to focus on the matter at hand— and to piss him off, of course.

"Where else, then?" I pointed to the bottom of the map, to a large desertland called Dorne. "You think this is where the red priest comes from?"

" _Possible, but uncertain."_ Erebus replied. " _It could be that the North North and Dorne are the seats of power of those two... factions, as it were. However, it could be anywhere to the east as well. There are no shortages of desertlands in this world."_

I swore, realizing he was right. "You're right."

" _We need more information."_ Erebus insisted again. " _There's no way to get a hold of the situation without learning about the land. Who controls what? Who are the most important people? What history does this place have? Information to that effect."_

I nodded, and we spent another ten minutes discussing the third faction, those children I'd seen at the end. They didn't seem threatening, but it was the least threatening things which ended up being the most dangerous of all.

Best example? Wormtail. The rat was so non threatening that nobody thought he could be a Death Eater. Sirius paid with over a decade in prison. My mother and father paid with their lives.

I shook off these thoughts, before rolling the map up and shrinking it with a tap of my wand, placing it in one of my pockets, and exiting the room.

There was a lot of work to be done; a lot of... _research—_ I shivered involuntarily.

But, for now, more food and rest.

I would need it, if I were to go to the North North.

 _§We are_ not _calling it the North North!§_ Balthazar raged some more.

Heh.


	3. Research and Decisions

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 3: Research and Decisions  
**

A week had passed since I had arrived to this new world. In the first few days, I followed Erebus' advice and sought out books and information on the necessary subject, despite my own reluctance.

But you have to do what you have to do to survive, and so I pored over the tomes in my afternoons as Balthazar curled up on the bed. I tried not to think about all of the people I left behind, but my mind unwillingly kept straying back to them.

I found myself looking at the doorway from time to time, expecting Sirius, Remus, or Daphne there, only to sigh in weariness when no one came.

They were not here. If I failed, I would never see them, again.

So, I kept reading, learning, understanding.

The history books were surprisingly interesting, considering that the history I learned in Hogwarts tended to send me to sleep— but then again, with a ghost constantly droning on and on, it really wasn't all that surprising.

As far as I understood, this continent was occupied by a race of diminutive humans called the Children of the Forest, a people gifted with supernatural powers— though there are no specifics— who lived in Westeros since the existence of life, I assumed. There was also another race, though they were far fewer in number: Giants.

They all lived off of the land; hunting, gathering, farming, and they worshipped faceless, nameless Gods of the forest, stream and stone. They carved faces in weirwood trees— I would have to find one and examine it— bone white trees with red leaves and sap. Were these the children I saw in the void after clashing my will against that of the deities?

I had a feeling it really was.

No matter.

At any rate, Westeros was invaded by Essos, another country to the East, by a race of people that would later be known as The First Men. These people crossed the Arm of Dorne, land which connected the land of Dorne to Essos— and which was later magically destroyed by the Children of the Forest.

The two people warred for centuries, possibly millennia, until a pact was formed between them at the Isle of Faces— which I found easily enough on my map, which started something called the Age of Heroes.

That was another place I should visit, beside the Wall.

Speaking of the Wall... It was known to be one of the Nine Man-Made Wonders in the known world, and there was some heavy history behind it.

Some unknown time after the pact formed at the Isle of Faces, the Long Night came— that was something else I found interesting, the summers and winters here were measured in years, not months— a winter which supposedly lasted for a whole generation, laying waste to the people through famine and terror.

It was apparently caused by a race of ice demons, called the Others. The Darkness with blue eyes, I assumed. They were considered to be strange, beautiful, and even elegant, possessing flesh as pale as milk and eyes as bright as blue stars.

I nodded unconsciously in agreement with the description.

The author cautioned the reader to take these descriptions with a grain of salt, as there were no real proofs to these matters as the tome was written many ages after the Long Night.

Then, it went on to say that these Others were capable of raising the dead to fight the living, and possessed razor-thin swords made of ice which could shatter any weapon used against it— not that the weapons themselves were of any use against.

That was until it was discovered that weapons made out of dragonglass could kill them.

This started another line of research. Dragons are real, here— or at least, they were until recently, having simply died off. But that's for another time.

So, dragonglass, known as obsidian— oh, never mind, that was easy enough.

Then, back to the Wall, then. It was raised after the combined peoples of the Children of the Forest and the First Men, beat the Others back to whatever pit they crawled out of. With the help of the Giants and the magic of the Children of the Forest, a man now known as Brandon the Builder raised the damn thing.

It was three hundred miles in length and seven hundred feet in height, made of solid ice and stone. The top was wide enough for a dozen mounted knights to ride side by side, and is even thicker at the base.

Manning the wall was the illustrious "Night's Watch", men who gave up their lands, right to father children, and their general freedom to spend the rest of their miserable lives to defend the realm from these Others, and the wildling tribes in the North North— Balthazar smacked me with his tail every time I said that.

The last section of the book said that the Others had not been seen for eight thousand years.

But I knew that was false, or else I would not have encountered that monstrosity in the void.

For a while, Westeros was at peace, building its people back up from the aftermath of the Long Night— a full generation without being able to farm would most likely have caused people to die by the millions— and this peace lasted for thousands of years.

Until the Andals came from Andalos, with their own religion in tow and steel weapons, superior to the crude iron and bronze the First Men had. Another war was had, and the Andals eradicated entire forests of weirwood trees, killing off both the First Men and the Children of the Forest.

The First Men fought back, of course, but the Children of the Forest were thought to have gone extinct during that time— if anyone even believed in their existence in the first place. They landed in the Vale of Arryn and spread their faith and destruction across the continent, installing Septs, large buildings of worship with the seven pointed star as a symbol on their entrances.

So that was what that building was, in the Square Market.

The book went on in detail on the Andal invasion, and how each kingdom in the South fell to their rule, either to war or marriage proposal which cemented the ties between kingdoms— both barbaric garbage in my eyes.

The only kingdom that withstood their invasion was The North, with their crannog men at the Neck— a region filled with swamps and bog— and a fortress named Moat Cailin, both of which destroyed entire armies every time they showed their ugly faces.

Thus, the North was allowed to keep its practice of its faith to their own Gods of the forest, stream and stone, now popularly known as the Old Gods.

The New Gods were really only one God, with seven different avatars— kind of like how, in the Christian religion, there had been three avatars— and were named The Seven.

The first is The Father, who represents divine justice, and judges the souls of the dead.

The second is The Mother, who represents mercy, peace, fertility, and childbirth, often referred to as the strength of women.

The third is The Maiden, representing innocence, purity, love and beauty.

The fourth is The Crone, who represents wisdom and foresight.

The fifth is The Warrior, who represents strength and courage in battle.

The sixth is The Smith, who represents creation and craftsmanship.

The seventh, and final one, is The Stranger, representing death.

I supposed it made sense why the people flocked to this new religion. The Old Gods were unseen, represented by forests, streams and land— there were no outrageous services, no names; nothing about it was certain.

The Seven, on the other hand, installed their Septs everywhere. They had their own symbol, the seven pointed star. You had to appreciate the symmetry of it all. The name of the churches was Sept, which was French for Seven. There were seven gods, seven pointed stars, seven kingdoms...

Why wouldn't any backwards ass farmer believe in this tripe?

Still, history was history, despite my feelings on the matter. So, the Andals invaded, the Kingdom of the North kept the stupid blond invaders off its nuts, and life went on for a few more thousand years; until, three hundred years ago, Aegon the Conqueror came with his three dragons, and subdued all of the kingdoms, one by one, uniting them all in a war comparatively much shorter than the previous ones.

Good; shorter wars meant less reading for me.

I turned out to be wrong in that assumption.

Instead, it turned out to be even more reading material than the books covering the thousands of year before it. Kingdoms surrendering or being destroyed, instead. Loyalties exchanged, maps rewritten, a new capital rising... The rule of the Dragon Kings was absolute, it seemed.

At least, until all of the dragons died, and all of the subsequent kings went mad, one way or another, trying to reach for their former glory. One of the kings apparently drank a volatile substance called wildfire, a green substance that can burn hotter than any known material, melting even stone. The man burned to death.

Another, King Aerys II Targaryen, used wildfire to burn his enemies alive, and he ended up going too far when the Lords Stark of the North confronted him about his son. The story went on that the King's son, Rhaegar Targaryen, abducted the current King Robert Baratheon's intended, a woman by the name of Lyanna Stark.

Lord Rickard Stark's daughter; so it was of no surprise that Lord Brandon Stark, the Heir of Winterfell, went to the capital of King's Landing to confront Rhaegar's father, King Aerys.

Brandon and his cohort were then arrested and imprisoned on charges of conspiring to kill the crown prince. Their fathers were summoned to answer for these crimes, and were summarily executed.

But, what happened to the Lords Stark was different. The story went on that Lord Rickard Stark demanded a trial by combat, an option reserved in the Seven Kingdoms to prove your innocence on a matter, meaning that if you were strong enough, you could commit any crimes you wanted and demand a trial by combat, and walk away a free man— something worthy of note, since I doubted anyone on this earth could defeat me in one versus one combat.

King Aerys consented to this, and named his champion to be fire itself. He suspended Lord Rickard, still in his armor, over a fire beneath him. Rickard's son, Brandon, was made to watch his father die with a noose around his neck and a sword out of his reach— he ended up strangling himself to death trying to reach it to save his father.

The whole story brought a bad taste to my mouth.

In response to this atrocity, Eddard Stark, Rickard's son and now Lord of Winterfell, took up arms, joined Robert Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands, as well as Jon Arryn, Lord of the Vale. They secured an allegiance with the Lord Tully of the Riverlands through marriage, and waged war on the remaining kingdoms— and won.

The war went on in detail, and I took the time to read of all the specifics of it, the many battles that occurred, Rhaegar's death at the hands of Robert Baratheon, King Aerys' death at the hands of his own Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister, who stabbed him in the back— forever earning him the pejorative nickname of The Kingslayer, though with an insane king like Aerys, it didn't seem fair to hold it against him— the subsequent raping and killing of Rhaegar's wife and children after the sack of the capital city, and the escape of the last two remaining Targaryen children to the eastern continent, Essos.

That rebellion ended fourteen years ago, according to some of the locals. I made sure to ask more than one person just to be sure. Years, days, even hours and minutes were pretty much the same as my home world.

It made things easier, at least— however easy it is to be torn away from home and sent off to a backwater shithole. I sighed as I closed the book and thought out loud.

I lay back in my seat and groaned in sync with that of the wood.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" I asked after a few minutes, my mind automatically thinking about Daphne. The last thing I did was make her cry, and it weighed heavily on my mind.

She was probably crying, right at this moment; because, to her, I died thinking that I hated her after our last meeting. But I didn't hate her.

Damn it. I furiously wiped at my eyes and scowled.

No tears. I had to be strong.

But to open a rift between the worlds... Is it even possible?

" _Unknown."_ Erebus replied quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping viper on the bed. " _Our own method succeeded because we had already been in between realms."_

"What would happen if I used a Dark Rift, right now?" I asked as I got up and paced.

" _Nothing._ " Erebus said with utmost certainty. " _I do not sense my Dark Realm, and you cannot open a doorway to something that is simply not there._ "

"Let's try to make sure." I grabbed the sword, and slashed at the air. " **Dark Rift."**

Nothing happened. I closed my eyes in frustration.

" _I told you it wouldn't happen."_ Erebus chided lightly, but I felt no irritation from it. The Devil Arm was as agitated as I was. With his longer life, the impact on him must have been infinitely greater than mine.

Balthazar didn't seem to particularly care; as long as I was here, all was good in the world.

"Yeah... I had to make sure, though." I pinched the bridge of my nose, as I placed Erebus back in his bone sheath. "What's the chance of the existence of any magical artifact that can get us back?"

" _Astronomically low."_ Erebus said. It wasn't the answer I wanted to hear.

The rest of the day was spent walking outside, eating and drinking and reading more books— anything to keep my mind off of Erebus' bone chilling words, even going as far as to leave both Balthazar and the Devil Arm in my room. What if I was stuck here forever?

What would I do, then?

Was there even a point to living— I stopped that train of thought immediately. Suicide was never an option. I was stronger than that.

After that, I returned to the inn, and had whatever the inn keeper suggested— rabbit stew. It was the first time I had such a dish. It was warm, rich with flavor and was quite heavy on the stomach. Needless to say, I scarfed it all down, almost cleaning my plate with my tongue.

The inn keeper had just chuckled at the sight, proud to be serving his customers well.

I gave him my thanks, and left a few coppers on the counter before heading up to my room once more, my thoughts more solidified. I greeted Erebus as the faithful black viper slithered up my body, wrapping itself around my torso and resting its head on my shoulder as it always does.

" _So, have you decided on what we need to do?"_ Erebus asked bluntly. I liked that about the Devil Arm. He didn't simper around like most do, beating around the bush and never getting to the point.

"As you say." I began. "I don't think we can make it home. I'll definitely keep trying, of course." I pulled out a book named ' _Old Valyria and the Doom'_ by some Archmaester who-gives-a-shit-what-his-name-is.

"This might prove to be a decent read." I said, before getting back on point. "But I can easily read it during my travels. I heard talk of the King riding with his court to Winterfell, so I'll head there, see what kind of King this is, and then make my way north to the Wall."

" _Understood."_ Erebus acknowledged. " _When do we leave?"_

I considered his words for a few moments, before nodding to myself.

"I'm moving out tonight." I said. "I'll buy a horse and stick to the roads."

 _§Have you ever ridden a horse, Harry?§_ Balthazar asked curiously as he bumped his head against mine in a rare show of affection. I patted his head.

 _§No, but I've ridden a hippogriff, and those are way more ill tempered, and a lot more easily offended.§_ I replied. _§How hard could it be?§_

The rest of the day was spent bidding my farewells to the few here with which I struck up conversation— the inn keeper and his son Edmund, the bookshop owner, an old man by the name of Torwynd, and the collector at the Square Market.

Buying a horse was a simple matter. I had to get it a saddle, some food, and I was all set. Feeding it, and putting the saddle on would be child's play; Hagrid made sure to teach us how to feed hippogriffs in my Third Year, after all.

It was always nice to see when your schooling paid off in the real world. I muttered a low thank you to the giant man, wherever he was right now, before telling the inn keeper that I was leaving.

When he tried to give me my money back, seeing as I was leaving early, I handed it back to the man with a real smile— adding a little extra to it— and told him to remain an honest man for the rest of his days. Heartfelt words were exchanged, and I left Torrhen's Square, riding out through the Kingsgate on the eastern side of the city.

Torrhen's square was reportedly around two hundred or three hundred miles away from Winterfell, and this horse could trot at... say... Ten miles an hour? I could probably get him to run at twenty five, maybe even thirty, but that would just exhaust the poor thing a mile out.

This way, I could maximize the distance ran and make good time.

So, assuming the road wasn't a straight line, it would probably be around three hundred fifty miles at least. Knowing that, it would nominally take me thirty five hours to reach there. That wasn't taking into account the fact that we would need to take breaks every five to six hours.

" _Bequeath your power upon the horse._ " Erebus added after we reached the Kingsroad in an hour's time and made a left.

"It— It won't hurt him?" I stammered slightly.

" _Your power responds to your will."_ Erebus chided gently. " _Much like when the sons of Sparda shared their powers with you, so too can you share with the horse."_

"Speaking of..." I pulled on the reins and patted his neck to make him stop, before leading him to the side and tying him to a nearby tree. "We should name this guy."

I gave the horse a carrot, and sat next to him, digging into a loaf of bread. I had bought twenty and thrown a preservation charm on them, before shrinking them to the size of a pea.

I learned that Balthazar could draw from the nutrients in my body when we were both merged. I knew not the hows and whys, and more importantly, I didn't even care.

"So... what should we call you?" I smiled as I looked at the horse in question, who was munching on the carrot. He looked at me for a moment, and snorted.

He had come quite cheaply, I thought. The owner had been all to glad to get rid of him, seeing as he refused to be controlled by any rider. He was a majestic black stallion, powerfully muscled and with hair so soft that made you underestimate his strength.

His appearance reminded me of myself, to be honest. Wild, but soft at the same time.

He had calmed down as soon as I got to him and showed him the respect I would show to a hippogriff. To my surprise, he bowed back. A few minutes later, the owner of the stables had looked on in absolute confusion as I easily fed him a few carrots.

He told me it was the first time anyone got close to him, like that.

So I bought the guy, and here we were, having a late night dinner.

"Hmm... Phantom?" I started. "No, hm... I need something wild for you, something in keeping with the strongest creatures in the world."

" _There was a Demonic Horse in the Temen Ni Gru called Geryon."_ Erebus offered. " _He was also a black stallion, but his mane and tail were pure blue flames."_

"Geryon." I repeated the name, rolling around in my mouth a few times, before turning to the horse in question. "Geryon. Hm. You like it?"

The horse stopped his chewing to stare at me for a few seconds, before nodding once.

I knew wizards could make the animals around them behave with more intelligence, but this was ridiculous! Or, maybe the horse himself was intelligent? I didn't know.

He was here, he understood me, and that was good enough for me.

"All right, then." I smiled and untied the horse from his tree. He didn't run away. "Your name is now Geryon the Blacksteed." I patted him on the neck and gave him another carrot.

A few minutes later, we were back on the road, still trotting at a leisurely pace.

"Here goes nothing." I said, before channeling some Lightning into Geryon, willing it to not hurt the guy. The effect was instantaneous; Geryon gave a loud whinny, and his speed quintupled— still at a trot, I pointed out.

At this rate, I'd reach Winterfell in a fifth of the time! For the next four hours, we sped past roadside inns and quaint little villages, before stopping for a break once more— we needed to pee.

Geryon didn't even seem tired.

" _The power seems to energize him somewhat."_ Erebus said, from the other side of the tree I was pissing on.

"Dude, not while I'm pissing!" I swore at the Devil Arm. "Never hold a conversation with a man when his dick's out. It's just... weird."

" _Why?_ " He asked curiously.

"Just don't!" I said, zipping my pants back up, and washing my hands with some quickly conjured water. "It's just wrong."

" _You humans and your strange behavior."_

The rest of the trip was spent in silence. I had to give Geryon some more power— a mere fraction of the energy it would take for me to launch a **Breakdown Fist**. All in all, it was much more energy efficient to ride on horseback than it was to fly, especially when Geryon's enhanced trot was much faster than my Air Raid could ever hope to be.

The weather got colder, fiercer the further north we went. We happened upon a large hill as the sun was rising, and I decided to rest up its top. With warming charms, the wind couldn't chill any of us.

As we got to the top, I noticed something in the distance, beyond the mist. A large and wide castle stood proudly, its walls a hundred feet tall at least. The castle itself was so big, they even had enough space to stuff a forest inside— or maybe they built walls around the damn thing.

Worthy of note were the red leaves on one that I could see— even from this great distance.

"So, this is the seat of House Stark. Winterfell." I said, sitting to eat as the sun shone on my face, reinvigorating me. I relaxed some more, taking in the sight of the wondrous construct. It was not perfect in any way— it had that worn look to it, like it had been subjected to sieges and direct attacks in the past, and wasn't quite as repaired as the people who lived there had hoped.

But that was what seemed to give it a powerful presence.

Because after thousands of years, it was still standing. This place was older than Hogwarts.

I cleaned myself up and made my way to it.

 **oooooooooo**

In the next few days I'll be studying for my final, so I won't even be starting on my update until after the 25th. See ya!


	4. Winterfell

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 4: Winterfell  
**

"State your reason for entry." The guard at the gate said sternly, but not unkindly.

"Just a traveler." I said simply, gesturing at myself and the distinct lack of weaponry on me, aside from Erebus of course. "I heard the King was riding to Winterfell while I was in Torrhen's Square, and I wished to be here when he came."

The guard snorted, probably thinking I was some star struck fan boy. "All right, go on, then."

He stood to the side and I rode past him, into Winterfell.

Winterfell; it was a large stronghold extending across many acres of territory, defended by two layers of strong granite walls. The outer walls were a bit shorter than the inner walls, but I figured both were at least over seventy feet. Between the walls, there was a wide moat.

Even though they were not currently manned, or even in use, I managed to spot at least three different places which could be used as a sort of shield against enemy fire as you shot arrows at them. Currently, these defenses were just wasted space, as three kids and their— were those wolves or dogs? I couldn't quite tell— ran around.

Or rather, the girl was running, and the two boys were chasing her. I gave a small smile at the sight, before turning to look at where the weirwood tree was supposed to be. I dismounted and made to find the stables— directly to my left, hearing the sounds of a hammer hitting steel on my way there.

A quick glance to the side confirmed my thoughts; it was a blacksmith, hard at work at the forge. As I reached the stables, I was met with a giant of a man, who was shoveling the horse shit. He stopped at my arrival, and turned to stare at me.

He wasn't quite as big as Hagrid, but it was close enough.

I gave a nod, and a smile. "Hello. You are the stable-boy?"

I felt weird calling a man of his age a boy, but you couldn't help the names of the jobs people assigned to other people.

The man widely smiled back, and said "Hodor," before nodding.

"Uh." I said, feeling a little confused. "I'm sorry, but what does Hodor mean?"

"Hodor." He pointed at himself.

"Oh!" I said. "So _you're_ Hodor."

He nodded. "Hodor."

"Can you not say any other word?" I asked, immediately feeling like a jerk when his face fell.

"Oh, don't take it the wrong way!" I said quickly, moving a bit closer to the large man. "I'm just new here, I'm traveling, you see?"

The grown man considered my words, before nodding. "Hodor."

"Am I forgiven, then?" I tried, and the giant grinned.

"Hodor!" He said, extending his hand.

I took it and shook twice, feeling a little amused, at the strangely gentle man. He didn't try to squeeze my hand like I had expected, but did give a somewhat firm shake, before gesturing to my horse.

"I can do it." I said with a smile. "Just show me where."

And show me, he did. A few stalls to the right, and I was all set.

I patted Geryon on the neck. "I'm not going to tie you, so don't get into trouble. If someone does try to tie you to a post, please don't kill them, all right?"

Geryon gave me a look that said "you can't tell me what to do!"

I shook my head in slight exasperation, and turned to the giant— Hodor, I reminded myself.

"Do I have to pay?"

Hodor shook his head.

"Awesome. It was nice meeting you, Hodor!" I said as I walked away.

"Hodor!" He almost shouted back happily. Maybe the guy didn't have many friends because of his condition. I could see servants running around the place, dragging barrels of wine and carts filled with bread, cabbage and the like to what I figured would be a great hall of sorts, probably preparations for the arrival of the King.

The clacking noise of wood against wood— not the smith, but something else— hit my ears as I got closer to the entrance to the forest inside of the castle. Curious, I made my way past the well and to the edge of a large courtyard, where two boys near my age, possibly a little younger.

They were fighting with sticks, each trying to beat the other in combat while an old man— a warrior who could still no doubt kick some ass— watched and criticized when necessary. Next to the man, lay two dogs; one with smoke grey fur and yellow eyes, the other with white fur and red eyes.

I looked away from those eyes. Red eyes only reminded me of one person.

The first boy had auburn hair, and blue eyes, built powerfully while his opponent, dark brown hair, grey eyes and built more for agility than straight on combat. The two boys furiously traded blows, neither of willing to give an inch to the other.

I smirked silently to myself. I had no sword skills and I could easily beat these two combined.

"Not good enough for you, is it?" I heard from my right, and turned to see another teen, though probably eighteen or nineteen. "You think you could do better?"

He spoke arrogantly.

"I don't think I could do better." I stopped for a moment, letting the older boy grin in triumph. "I _know_ I can do better."

His smile disappeared.

"How about it, then!?" He said loudly, gaining the attention of the two boys, the old warrior, and whoever was passing by. "A spar between the two of us, to see if you are as good as you claim to be."

I frowned. "One must give their name before issuing any challenges."

"Theon of House Greyjoy." The man, Theon, straightened up proudly. "And you are?"

"Harry of House Potter." I said with no fanfare, knowing that my name would not be recognized by anyone.

"House Potter?" Greyjoy smirked as he mocked my name. "Are you from some backwater southern village that make pots?"

"From the east, actually." I corrected. "And, no. We make swords."

"You made that sword, then?" Theon looked at my sword. "Bit small, isn't it?"

"It's not the sword that makes the swordsman, my friend." I said condescendingly, which irritated him slightly. "It's the man wielding it."

"Well said." The old warrior said, grabbing both our attention, before fixing his eyes on me. "How about it, lad? Up for a fight?"

"Sure." I said easily, making my way to the center as the two boys who had been sparring rushed to the side with excited eyes. I supposed that watching a fight was as fun as being in a fight, yourself. I placed my sword at the edge, before one of the boys threw his wooden sword to me, while the other threw his practice sword to Theon.

A few seconds later, we stood a few feet apart from each other. He gave me a cocky grin, sure of his win against me. And why wouldn't he be so certain? He was older than me, bigger than me, and thought he had more experience.

"Ready?" The old warrior said. We both nodded. "Begin!"

He came at me with a stab, most likely meant to frighten and overwhelm me with his ferocity— long enough for him to land a stab in my stomach, but I was not so easily scared. I sidestepped his lunge before raising my right hand and slapping him on his ass— hard.

He yelped and fell forward, face first into the dirt floor. The two boys howled with laughter, and even the old warrior gave a smirk at the sight, before assuming his stern look once more.

To his credit, Theon got back to his feet and attacked me, once more, without any insults. Though he did gain some respect, I still planned on utterly beating him. To do that, I spent the next minute dodging his strikes, parrying them, blocking them, but never striking back.

As time went on he realized I wasn't even fighting back, and became angry. His hits started to miss even without me dodging.

"Fight back, you coward!" He shouted as he swung wide again.

That was my chance; the whole thing happened in the next split second; I blocked his practice sword with my own, before a quick leg sweep had him on his back, my practice sword already at his throat.

He stared at it, then at me, then back at it, impotent fury visible in his eyes. I scoffed at the blatant display of emotion, and spoke.

"Do you surrender?" I asked loudly, and slowly.

A few moments passed as the older boy calmed down.

"...Yes. I yield." He said quietly.

I gave a humph, and lifted the practice sword from his throat, extending my hand. He stared at it for a few seconds, before grudgingly grabbing it.

"You're really good!" I heard a little girl's voice as Theon dusted himself off next to me. He scowled at the girl, but took the practice swords and handed them back to the old man.

I looked at her; it was the same girl I had seen earlier. Next to her, stood both the two boys as well.

"Thank you." I smiled. "I'm sure Theon took it easy on me, little one."

That seemed to mollify the boy in question, while all the other kids looked at me disbelievingly. The old man was the only one who understood the gesture, it seemed. The little girl scowled at being called little— something which amused me to no end.

"Anyway." I said as I went to grab my sword, before placing it at my side. "I do apologize for the interruption. I'm sure your students would like to resume their training."

It felt strange speaking so formally, but if I employed the vocabulary from my realm, I didn't think anyone would understand more than a few words.

"Think nothing of it, er.." The old man trailed off, unsure of how to refer to me.

"Harry is fine." I smiled and shook the man's gloved hand. His grip was strong. "I am no Knight or Lord, just a simple traveller."

"I see." The stout man said. "I am known as Ser Rodrik Cassel, and I am the master-at-arms of Winterfell."

Master-at-arms? Why would someone so high up be teaching a bunch of wayward children— Oh... I looked at the group of kids, before looking back at him uncomfortably. The old man understood.

"Not to worry lad." The old man said, patting me on the shoulder. "No sense in punishing those who win their battles fairly."

"Ah— Good." I replied gratefully. "That's good. Thanks."

It would suck to have to fight my way out of there because the reigning Lord's brats decided they wanted to hang me for irritating them. Ser Rodrik then introduced me to every one of them, and a round of shaking hands and "nice to meet you"-s were exchanged.

The boy with auburn hair was Robb Stark, the Heir of Winterfell. The other boy his age was a bastard— apparently it was something to be ashamed about or something, the whole thing irked me, and I could tell the boy himself, Jon Snow, didn't appreciate his last name being bandied about like that.

He probably thought I would judge him for it, but was surprised when I shook his hand with a grin, saying that we should spar together, later.

"I'll hold you to that." Jon said with a grin.

The little girl was Arya Stark, and got really irritated when I called her "Little Lady". Heh. Kids were always fun to fuck with.

The two boys were Bran and Rickon Stark, respectively. I gave them smiles and quick hellos, watching them tease their sister.

"May I ask why you've come so far north?" The old knight asked, as he set the two boys.

"Word came to Torrhen's Square that the King rides for Winterfell." I said simply. "Rumor has it he's bringing his entire court with him."

"Aye." The knight said, smirking slightly as he heard Arya shouting at her brothers to stop calling her Little Lady. "You're here to see the King, then?"

"Yes, it should prove to be an interesting experience at the very least." I said, before looking over to the tree line and pointing to the tree with the red leaves. "I've also wanted to examine that tree, over there."

Rodrik's eyes landed on the large treetop, as well.

"I see." He said. "May I ask why?"

"Of course." I smiled. "I've heard of these Old Gods of the forest, stream and stone while travelling, and admit to being quite interested in them. Am I allowed to enter the forest?"

"Aye, lad." Rodrik immediately answered. "The godswood is open to everyone. Forgive my questions; just an old man's curiosity."

I gave a nod and prepared to go. "It's quite all right. I took no offense."

"However, do keep it in mind that." He said before I could bid the others goodbye. "The godswood is a place of worship and meditation. Do not desecrate it."

Unspoken words were also said: If you do, you'll come to regret it.

"I won't." I answered, and looked at all the other kids. "It was nice meeting all of you. I will see you later, Jon." I walked away, feeling a little happy.

" _Not what I'd expected from the sons of Lords."_ Erebus said to me as I skirted past a few workers unloading a cart full of firewood, before entering Winterfell's godswood.

I was a little surprised; the woods were much thicker than I expected, considering the forest was inside of the stronghold. I expected a few trees, here and there, with defined paths and many benches and the like, kind of like a garden.

This was anything but. The only way I managed to find my way through was because of the tree's shape, color and size. Quite thick, bone white, with leaves as red as blood.

I approached the tree slowly, feeling a thrum of power running from it into the earth. It wasn't anything earth shattering, barely enough magic to sustain a cornish pixie— but it was there. The energy seemed to cover the grounds of the godswood, never going outside of its borders.

A sort of safe zone, if you will— but against what?

"And who might you be?" A voice came from behind the tree as a man emerged from its left side. The man looked to be in his mid-thirties, with a long face, dark hair, and cold, grey eyes. He had the look of a hard man to him, and I instinctively gulped at the sight.

Standing in his furs, carrying a great sword as wide across as a man's hand and taller than I was, the man gave me a curious, if not cautious look. Curiously enough, I felt another thrum of power from the sword itself— it felt strangely "hot", I decided after a moment, before I realized the situation.

" _Be on your guard with this one._ " Erebus whispered in my thoughts.

"My apologies." I said in slight embarrassment. "The weirwood tree stole my attention away from me for a moment— first time I've ever seen one, you see. I'm Harry Potter."

He nodded at the name.

"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." The man said in one breath.

Oh, damn. He's the head honcho, here. Shit. Must be respectful—

"Do you have to say that every time you introduce yourself?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

A moment of silence passed as the man looked completely taken aback at the question, before an amused look graced his features. I was about to apologize, but he answered.

"Aye, lad." He replied. "It never gets to be less of a mouthful, even after years of saying it."

"I can imagine." I said, before turning to the tree. He followed my gaze and smiled.

"Beautiful, isn't it." Eddard said.

"Yeah." I agreed wholeheartedly. "I've never seen anything like it. I read that the Children of the Forest carved faces in these trees."

"Aye." Lord Stark confirmed, bidding me to follow with a gesture. I obeyed, and found myself on the other side of the tree, in front of the carved face. It looked so real, and the red sap made it look like it was bleeding.

"It is often said." Eddard cut through my thoughts as I stared at the face in the tree. "That no man can tell a lie in front of a heart tree, as the Old Gods know when men are lying."

Interesting tidbit of information, I thought as I placed my hand against the bark, communing with the tree. There was definitely a presence there, though I could not focus on it. It was similar to seeing something in your peripheral vision without being able to turn your head to see it.

Proof that the deities I encountered were real.

I backed away from the tree after a few quiet minutes, and spoke to Lord Stark.

"Truly an amazing sight." I said again, before giving him a short bow. "I apologize again for interrupting your prayers. I'll be on my way. Good day, Lord Stark."

"Likewise." He nodded back respectfully, before sitting under the tree and closing his eyes again. I took that as my cue to leave, and relaxed for the rest of the day at The Smoking Log, an inn in the winter town, just outside of the stronghold's east gate.

It was named as such, since most people— small folk; they were called in this world— migrated here during the wintertime due to the fairer conditions at Winterfell, caused by the heat of the hot springs.

Right now? There were a few people, here and there, but I could tell that the town's marketplace could hold up to five to six times the amount of merchants it currently had. Another thing that caught my eye for a few moments was the town's brothel.

I played with the idea of getting a quick fuck, before shaking my head. Who knew what sort of diseases these girls carried? These people didn't know the first thing about science, let alone something as complex as the idea of sexually transmitted diseases.

Best not fuck around when it comes to something like this— pun intended.

The room I had rented out was quite smaller than the one I had in Torrhen's Square, but it was cheaper, and I didn't have need for all that much room to begin with. I paid the inn keeper— a stout, middle aged man with a lazy eye— enough silver to last me a few weeks, since I had no idea when King Robert's convoy would arrive.

I wasn't really sure why I was waiting for the man, really.

I mean, it was just one man.

" _One man who rules all of these lands."_ Erebus corrected. " _At the very least, it is worth the wait, just to see what sort of man he is._ "

In the following week, I read the book I had purchased in Torrhen's Square about Old Valyria, now a ruined city in the eastern continent of Essos.

It was once the capital of a great empire called the Valyrian Freehold, which had encompassed the majority of the eastern continent until the cataclysmic event known only as "The Doom" destroyed it utterly, with the exception of the Targaryen family.

An ominous title.

A century before Aegon the Conqueror had set his sights on Westeros; The Doom fell on the Valyrian Freehold.

What The Doom actually was, is unknown; the book said it was a cataclysm without actually going into detail on what the cataclysm entailed. Was it a series of erupting volcanoes? Some kind of biological warfare? Maybe, their own dragons killed them?

At any rate, what grabbed my attention was that Valyria had wizards. Magic existed, centuries ago, though it was rooted in blood and fire.

They could set candles made out of dragonglass on fire; and with it, they were said to be able to see across great distances, look into other men's thoughts, and communicate each other even if they were on the other side of the world.

"I guess we can add Valyria as a place to visit." I had said after finishing the book.

Another thing I had taken to doing was sparring with Jon, his half-brother Robb, and Theon Greyjoy. I found myself gravitating more to Jon, however.

The other two were more cocksure and arrogant— at least in Greyjoy's case, anyway. Jon Snow had a tight lid on his emotions, looking more like his father than Robb ever did; stern, stone faced and cold eyed.

I knew why; bastards were treated with a general lack of respect and decency. Apparently, it was widely considered that bastards were evil parasites who just wanted to seize their birth family's wealth and lands— a belief based on the story of the Blackfyre Rebellion over a century ago.

The story went that the reigning King at the time, Aegon the fifth, legitimized all of his bastards on his death bed. They took the name Blackfyre and eventually rebelled against the throne, most likely in some attempt to seize power.

After that particular event, bastards were treated even worse than before, even a hundred years after the fact.

I don't really know why I started talking to him more.

Maybe it was because he wasn't a douchebag like Greyjoy. Maybe it was because I was lonely and wanted a friend after trying so hard to deal with the fact that I may never go home again. Maybe it was because I respected him more than I respected his brother.

He reminded me of me, really. Until recently, the Dursley family didn't want anything to do with me. I knew what it was like to wonder about your parents in the middle of the night and have no answer. I knew what it was like to be looked upon with distaste and scorn by the person who's supposed to be your mother figure.

Jon somehow knew that I understood— in the short week that passed, we became good friends. He was reluctant, the first few days, but my dry humor and willingness to spend time with him finally got through, and he began to smile around me, like he did around his little sister Arya.

This day, he told me of his desire to join the Night's Watch, something that's been on his mind for the past year, he said.

"You're not serious." I said incredulously. "Join that band of criminals?"

Jon bristled when I said that, saying that his uncle Benjen was part of the Night's Watch, and no criminal.

"I'm sure he's not." I placated. "But the Night's Watch's new recruits are almost always criminals."

And then I told him the story of the thief in Torrhen's Square. I told him of how he begged for me to let him go, or the authorities would either chop off his hand, or force him to take the black.

"I read up on the subject, afterwards, and asked around." I said, as we began to dig into our dinners at The Smoking Log. "I learn— excuse me, something stuck in my tooth. Ah.. That's better. Anyway, I learned that the Night's Watch sends recruiters to the dungeons and prisons of many towns and castles, offering the criminals within to take the black as an alternative to the chopping block. Most choose the block over living the rest of their lives in a cold and inhospitable place, losing their freedom entirely."

Jon was silent as he absorbed these words.

"I'm sure your uncle Benjen is an honorable man." I smiled gently at my newest friend. "Your father is certainly that, and I know you are, too. But you're my age... There's a lot of things you could do with your life before making a big decision like this."

"And what do you suggest?" Jon said a little heatedly. "You think I haven't thought of it, either? I'm a _bastard_." He spat the word out like it was a curse. "Who would take me, if not the black brothers of the Night's Watch?"

"I would, in a heartbeat." I said, and he looked at me in surprise. "I don't give a shit about bastards, it doesn't matter to me whose mother you were born to and what family you're part of. You're a very good person; I can see it from the way you behave around others. How you treat your siblings with kindness instead of allowing the bitterness within you to consume you."

He still looked unsure, though the compliment did make him duck his head in slight embarrassment.

"I'll be heading to the Wall after I see this King of ours." I said wryly, and Jon lifted his head in surprise, wondering why. "I've heard it's an amazing structure. I plan to at least stand at its top. You can come with me; see what these black brothers are like before making your decision. How does that sound?"

Silence. And then—

"All right." Jon said, still a little reluctantly. "When the time comes, we ride for the Wall— if only to simply see what it's like."

The rest of the meal was spent in a comfortable silence.


	5. Dinner With Starks

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 5: Dinner With Starks  
**

A week and a half had passed since I had agreed to ride for the Wall with Jon Snow after I had taken the King's measure. It was a little strange, admittedly, that the King wasn't here yet; but I figured moving a large force of men with many provisions— knowing full well that many of the travelers coming with are dead weight— would take a lot more time than, say, a single rider.

It would probably take another week or more, I reasoned.

I had established a bit of a routine.

In the mornings I would meet with Snow and spar against him, and his half-brother Robb if he was there. Most times it was Jon and I, trading blows at furious speeds as the master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik, watched. I could've defeated him just as easily as that ponce Greyjoy, if I really wanted to.

There was no sense in it, however, because I needed to learn skill.

Now, you may ask yourself: "But why, Harry, my personal hero? Why would you not use all of your amazing power?"

Well, my good friend, I'll tell you. It is true, that if I channeled my Lightning, I could simply dodge any attack I wished since my speed was increased to inhuman levels. But, here's a fundamental truth.

Fights— real fights— are never one on one.

I knew I was fast, that much was true. But imagine the following situation: I've been ambushed by a group of fifty men, my companions dead within the first ten seconds. All that's left is my sorry ass fighting at least five men simultaneously in melee— with a supply of at least another thirty to forty to support them— while ten of their archers line up shots when they have the chance.

Now, I'm fast, but I'm not that fast. I could dodge all of the sword strikes and get turned into a pincushion, or I could dodge all the arrows and get chopped in half. Hell, it's possible I could dodge everything and still make it, but that was a pipe dream at best.

Sure, at this juncture, you might say something to the effect of: "well, you have wide area effect spells that could help you," and sure, you might actually be right! I'm sure my Lightning Dragon's Roar or my Lightning Blades could mow entire waves of men down— the same would apply for Dark Stream. However, I am not exactly a limitless battery. My energy levels are directly related to how fresh I am, which is dependent on my hunger, fatigue and mental state.

Something else I've noticed is that my power is somehow stifled when it exits my body. I could still force my techniques to work, but their effect was reduced. My power used to be able to obliterate structures and tear through stone and metal with ease.

Now it just breaks things.

Still overwhelmingly powerful, but a reduction in power is a reduction in power, no matter what.

And I had to compensate for it, which is why I sparred with Jon the old fashioned way. I was leagues ahead of the boy in speed even without my Lightning, but he had a natural skill with swords, countering my attacks at the last moment and even successfully launching his own. Lo and behold, a few weeks of constant practice and I began to approach his level of skill. He could still handily beat me, but I made him work for it, now.

The sound of a scuffle beside me tore me from my thoughts and back into reality.

I turned to see what the commotion was about, and half-smiled at the sight. Speak of the devil.

Jon was roughhousing with his direwolf, Ghost. Supposedly still a pup, it was already as big as an adult wolf. Strangely enough, all of Ghost's steps were dead silent, despite his large size and weight. At first, I had thought it was a direwolf thing, but Ghost's siblings didn't have this mysterious power.

Perhaps it was a magical ability inherent to the rare few of the species? Something worth noting, at the very least.

It was almost noon, and that's when Jon and I would sit just outside of Winterfell and look at the woods in the distance; it was a truly magnificent backdrop— this world had so many beautiful sights when compared to my own. I would have to visit them all. Jon and I would share a lunch after the training, and sit in silence, watching the world around us.

Just giving each other some company.

Over the weeks, and after my promise to go with him to the Wall and to hire him if he found the Night's Watch lacking, he opened up about himself a little bit.

Oh, he didn't tell me about all of his woes and dreams for the future— not that I thought he had any dreams beside finding a place for himself in the world— but he did smile more easily. I learned more about him from the way he acted around me and around others.

With others, he was guarded, carefully choosing his words when speaking to them and maintaining a safe distance, with the exception of his siblings, who treated him like one of their own— especially the little girl, Arya.

I could tell she idolized him since he didn't treat her like she was unimportant. Already, he had asked me a few questions, here and there. He wasn't direct about it, but I could tell that he was sounding me out, and seeing if I really meant it when I offered him a place by my side.

To be fair, they were some damn good questions.

What was my plan, for example?

It was a question I couldn't quite answer without revealing my magic. I actually considered the possibility of simply not trying to hide my power from anybody, but I would get armies of Seven-besotted zealots trying to kill me when word came out. This nation still lived in a sort-of medieval age, a time in which many witches and wizards were set on fire for simply existing.

An army of zealots could definitely kill me if given the chance.

I wasn't going to give them any chances.

I had told Jon that, if he chose to join with me, I would tell him what my plan was— to travel the world in search of artifacts of magical power that might bring me home.

Who am I kidding?

I told him that because I was no longer sure what the plan was.

When I had arrived it was so clear cut; find possible artifact or magical ground, search it to see if there's any possibility I could use the place's power to go home. As the days rolled by, I realized that it was wishful thinking. This world had magic, yes, but it was unlike my world's magic.

My home's magic was structured. Arithmancy led to spell creation, but it takes a lot of heavy calculations and theory to begin conceiving a spell. Sure, the basic spells are easy to learn: Expelliarmus, Flipendo, that sort of thing.

I was talking about spells with extremely specific effects; for example, you could theoretically create a spell that would cook your meals for you. You would set it as a series of spells, each triggered by the end phase of the spell before it.

How would you go about accomplishing that? Arithmancy, of course.

Similarly, Ancient Runes allowed for wizards to enact powerful protections by simply carving into wood, bone or stone and injecting a little magic into it.

The same could also be said about Transfiguration, which took theory to a whole new level when the idea behind it so simple: change something to something else. How complex could that be?

Obviously very complex, considering the fact we had to write insanely long essays for each different attempt at Transfiguration.

On the other hand, this world's magic had no structure that I could think of. Magic was believed to be real, yes, but there were only a small handful of practitioners spread out across the Earth. Book accounts had spoken of "shadow binders", "warlocks", and "red priests", and all of the accounts say that magic is rooted in fire and blood, which was nothing like the magic I used.

Speaking of book accounts... That was another thing that changed up the routine. I'd made a passing friendship with the stronghold's Maester, a man by the name of Luwin, no last name— apparently Maesters have to give up their family name to become part of the order.

He had seen me reading a book on the history of Westeros and began to talk about it all; after that, well he became late to his duties by over an hour. I saw him a few times after that, during which we exchanged pleasantries and spoke of various subjects, ranging from politics to philosophy— I ended up learning a lot from the man.

He wasn't really an approachable man, at first, but all teachers have soft spots for students who actually want to learn what they have to teach, and so I went past the man's barriers rather quickly.

Not that he kept me in close confidence and told me the secrets of Winterfell; we simply had chats every few days which turned into impromptu lessons about the various subjects on which he has knowledge.

When I'd broached the subject on magic, Luwin was quite the knowledgeable man, knowing many of the accounts in the books by heart— even if he only wanted to debunk them as superstitious nonsense.

Still, it made him an inadvertent, but invaluable source of information.

From him, I learned that the "red priests" are part of a religion which worships a deity by the name of R'hllor, known as the Lord of Light, the Red God, or the God of Flame and Shadow, whose ultimate goal is to destroy the Great Other, the supposed God of Darkness, Cold, Evil, Fear and Death.

In the void, those were who I had encountered.

The Great Other was surprised by my control over the Darkness and the Cold, while R'hllor believed I was his enemy when I brandished Erebus at him. This cemented the both of them as my enemies, I had realized as Luwin explained the impossibility of it all.

I usually made sure to change the subject by then, and the man was more than eager to explain how Lords and Kings interacted with the people. It had been as I expected. The Lords own all of the lands and peoples within, and can call them up to go to war at any time— with the small folk not allowed to say no, often having to leave their farms and pigs to wither and die.

The King, on the other hand, presides over all of the Lords as the highest authority in the Seven Kingdoms. What he says goes— on paper, of course. The reality was most likely similar to how the Wizarding world worked. If you had enough money and clout, you could do whatever you wanted.

When I raised this point, Maester Luwin only smiled and gave a nod of satisfaction.

"Too true." He had said then. "Many with the wealth and power could simply bribe or threaten the judges, or families that had been slighted. It is not a perfect system, but the alternative is civil war."

I had nodded and agreed, intending to use this information when formulating my plans.

I would be honest with myself. I came from an age where we had cars, phones, internet, massive food production, laundromats, plumbing, medicine, great feats of engineering, etc.

Well, I still had my magic, so I could still clean myself up with spells and the like. I could Vanish my own fecal matter. I could repair my current clothing indefinitely. That solved the cleanliness issue, and I doubted disease could ever ravage my body, what with the Lightning purifying any harmful thing that enters my body.

The problem I was dealing with was of a more sociopolitical nature.

Over the course of centuries we had established charters for human rights and equality, abolished slavery, and enacted systems in which the people— the small folk, here— were the ones who ruled.

Even after all I've done, all of the things I've seen and experienced, I still did not consider myself more important than the common person— stronger, for sure, but not fundamentally superior. Every one of these people, whether they were peasants or Lords, were equal to me.

If anything, I would work against the current system, but that wasn't something I could do on my own. Hell, it probably wasn't something I could do with help. Oftentimes, the people stayed in power while standing on the backs and bones of those considered inferior.

I could simply use the Imperius Curse on any possible obstacles and rule all of these Kingdoms, if I truly wished.

But the Imperius wasn't foolproof. Anyone with a strong enough will could simply break through the curse. Worse yet, I doubted I cold hold it over more than two people. Having to contend with another's will is easy, but suppose I had to force forty different people to do different things at the same time.

It wouldn't work.

Jon yelped as he fell down with a loud thud, his direwolf pushing him around in amusement.

I sighed, and looked up at the sky. It was clear today, and a chill was in the air, soothing the heated debate within myself with its harsh, cold touch.

"Hey, Harry?" Jon said as he got up and approached me, a little unsure.

"Yeah?" I answered.

"Ah... Well." Jon started, before taking a quick breath. "My father has _requested_ I invite you over for dinner."

Oh.

"Uh." I said eloquently. "Really?"

A nod was my response.

"But, what about Lady Catelyn?" I asked carefully; Jon had told me his step mother hated him for some reason— I could guess as to why. "Would she not disapprove of this?"

"She did." Jon said. "But father insisted on it."

I winced. Not attending would be like a slap to the face after he'd went through the trouble of convincing his wife to give her consent.

Jon, himself, looked a little nervous, but also happy. The whole situation screamed of a doting father making sure his son isn't interacting with the wrong people. It was good to know that Eddard Stark didn't mistreat Jon like many others did.

I heard the whispers of the workers at the inn and the servants at Winterfell. They would smile, and nod to his face, but behind his back, it was bastard this, bastard that, and ill-thought out jokes about his desire to join the Night's Watch.

It was enough to put a bad taste in my mouth.

"Yes." I answered finally. "I'll go."

His shoulders sagged in relief as Ghost trotted over to me, giving a pointed look to my covered up right arm, before lying at my feet. I patted his head absently as we continued to stare at the Wolfswood in the distance.

Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes turned into hours.

"We should probably head in for the dinner." Jon said quietly.

"All right, you go on, I'll catch up. It's at the Great Hall, right?" I said, giving him a brief smile.

Jon nodded and left me to my devices.

" _You know._ " Erebus said as I stared out into the woods. " _I don't think we can go home._ "

I nodded. "The thought occurred to me. But there's still a chance, maybe the Wall, or the Isle of Faces—"

" _I've spoken to the heart tree._ " Erebus admitted to my surprise. " _It's somewhat sentient, and it's been there for many centuries. The magic in the world is all but gone. You are the only man with great power, now. It said you have even more power than the Children."_

I absorbed that information. "So, what?" I said in agitation.

" _Start over."_ Erebus said. " _We can become a part of this world."_

"How?" I said. "Where do I even begin?"

"You've established yourself as the son of a wealthy family." Erebus said. "And the gold you have can sustain an entire squadron of men for generations. What do you want to do?"

I thought of Sirius, and Daphne. I stopped the Demon Emperor, but Voldemort was still alive in my world, meaning they were going to die, sooner or later.

The part that made it all the worse was that I could do nothing about it.

I wouldn't be able to save them when the time came.

 _§Idiot. Sirius isn't stupid, you saw how he handled those Demons.§_ Balthazar chided. _§Between him, Remus, and Dumbledore, they can finish it.§_

That was a strong possibility.

 _§You could be right.§_ I admitted. _§Without the horcrux in my head, I'm sure the three of them can find the rest and destroy them, before going after Voldemort, himself.§_

As strong as he was, he was certainly no match for a group of wizards on Sirius and Remus' level.

" _You have to let them go."_ Erebus said. " _We need to move forward."_

I closed my eyes for a long, long moment.

And then I stood up.

It was time to move on.

My friends and family were gone. Everything I knew and loved was gone. But I was still alive, in a whole new world, with new people and new experiences to have.

I walked back into the stronghold that is Winterfell, waving hello at the various people I'd come to know here. I made sure to stop by the stables and feed Geryon while saying hello to Hodor, before making my way past the smithy and the Sept, to the Great Hall.

It was a large, wide building, enclosed with grey stone and covered with banners. It had wide doors made of oak and iron, which had been left slightly open.

I went inside, the chilly air turning much warmer as I took a few steps in.

Jon was already waiting for me.

"Good, you're here." He said. "I came back to close the door cause I forgot to when I came in."

He looked a little sheepish. Maybe a family member whined about being cold and he realized his mistake in the matter.

"They're all there?" I asked and unintentionally gulped.

"Yes." Jon confirmed, and led me through a few doors to the large dining room. The room had eight long rows of trestle tables, four to each side of the central aisle; they could fit hundreds into this place.

There was a raised platform, where everyone was currently seated. I half assumed that I would be made to sit on the bottom, since I was not a lord— but then, Jon would also have to be down there as well, since he was a bastard.

I took note of who was attending this dinner as I approached the table. The most animated one was Arya, who kept messing with Rickon and Bran, as well as an older girl.

I figured she was thirteen, judging by her height; she had thick, auburn hair, and blue eyes which were glaring at Arya. Next to them, Robb and Theon ate their meals while chatting away about one thing or the other— well, Theon was talking, and Robb was listening.

Even further from them, Maester Luwin sat, enjoying his meal in relative silence, sometimes broken when exchanging talk with the last two people, the Lord Eddard and most likely his wife, Lady Catelyn, who noticed our presence long before everyone else did.

The large hall quieted.

"Lord Stark." Jon cut through the silence. "Lady Stark."

"Jon." Eddard said warmly as Catelyn gave a stiff nod.

How oddly formal from Jon, but I half expected it. Lady Stark would likely take offense if he called his father "father".

"May I present to you, Harry Potter of Myr." Jon said, gesturing at me.

I nodded my thanks to Jon, before giving them a short bow.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Stark and Lady Stark." I smiled at the two ladies, before nodding in greeting to the rest of the children. The girl, Sansa, looked like she was about to swoon when I smiled at her. Oh god, not a crush from a little girl, that would be horrific.

"Lord Stark. It's a pleasure to meet you again." I approached the table.

"Likewise." He said and gestured for us to sit. "Please, sit down."

"Thank you." I said and took the seat adjacent to that of Jon, near the other boys but still close enough to speak to Eddard and Catelyn. I had a feeling they would ask me many questions.

I greeted the Maester as I sat down. "Maester Luwin."

"Harry." He nodded.

"You know each other?" Eddard said in slight surprise.

"Ah, yes." Luwin said with a slight smile. "I happened upon him reading a book of... History, was it?"

"Yes." I confirmed and let him continue.

"We ended up discussing it in length, and I became late to my duties." Luwin admitted a little embarrassed.

A flicker of recognition entered Eddard's eyes. "Aye, you were. I had simply assumed there were matters of some importance that kept you."

"Yes, well.." Luwin looked even more embarrassed, but Eddard smiled slightly.

"Not to worry, old friend." He said. "These things happen."

Luwin only nodded at that, before going back to his food.

"So, Harry." Eddard turned his attention to me. "What brings you to Westeros?"

I noticed that Lady Catelyn was also looking at me as the man spoke.

"Well, Lord Stark, I've been traveling the world, looking for a place to settle down and make my mark. Westeros seemed like a fine place— the North has mostly been amazing, so far."

"Mostly?" Lady Catelyn repeated curiously, and with a hint of disapproval.

"Yes, well." I said, grimacing slightly. "A few brigands tried to steal from me, at Torrhen's Square."

"My Lady." I added as an afterthought. "Apologies, I am still not accustomed to the rules of Westeros."

"It's quite all right." Lord Stark said. "I trust you reported it to the relevant authorities?"

"I did not." I said, and got queer looks in response.

"Why?" Jon asked next to me, and I noticed the other children were also looking at me.

I gulped.

"They looked like they were starving." I said slowly. "They are not as lucky as I am to have received a fortune from my parents, and I do not enjoy causing any undue suffering to anybody. I beat their leader and let them go."

"I see." Eddard said, nodding. "That is very kind of you."

"Thank you, Lord Stark." I said as the servants came and served dinner. I had half expected pretentious foods like whole pigs with apples stuffed in their mouths or something equally ridiculous, but it turned out to be a wide array of meats, breads, and vegetables.

I helped myself to some venison, having taken a liking to the meat over my weeks of being in this world.

"Forgive me for asking, but I'm slightly curious." Eddard said to me. "How old are you?"

I swallowed down my food, and said. "Fifteen."

"Fifteen?" Catelyn said, looking incredulous. "Traveling, at your age? And your parents allowed this?"

"They were killed when I was a child." I said a little frostily. "I left that place as soon as I could. All my good memories tainted by that event."

"My apologies." Catelyn said, having the decency to blush at her own misstep. She even looked stricken. "And my condolences."

"It's all right." I said honestly.

"Is that why you're here?" Arya asked while chewing on some food.

"Arya!" Catelyn scolded. "Do not speak with your mouth full."

"Yes." I answered the little girl. "That's why I'm here. I've traveled here to start a new life."

"You wish to form your own House, here?" Maester Luwin questioned.

I took a moment to answer that.

"Perhaps in the future." I said thoughtfully, knowing everyone's eyes were on me. "For now, I wish to make a name for myself. I can't exactly acquire land if no one knows who I am. How would they know I was trustworthy, or honorable?"

"Too true." Luwin agreed as Eddard nodded in approval. "But how do you intend to do this?"

"Well, I've only figured out how to gain notoriety, so far." I said sheepishly. "I'm sure the important parties will know what sort of man I am after I become known to all. As for land... Well, I have the gold."

"Hm." Luwin said. "And the notoriety you seek?"

I smiled pleasantly. "I'm sure after defeating the strongest fighters of Westeros, my name will be known far and wide."

There was a long silence.

Theon snorted.

"A bit arrogant, isn't it?" Theon said dismissively. "You bested me in a spar. I will admit that much, but do you truly believe you can defeat anyone?"

I looked at him and said "Yes."

Jon was quiet— I had shown him my true speed and strength, though he did not know it was my Lightning Dragonslayer Magic at work.

"I heard Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, is coming to Winterfell with the King." Theon continued. "Would you like to issue him a challenge, then?"

Jaime Lannister, I had heard tell of him among the servants and small folk in winter town. He was considered to be one of the best swordsmen in the entire Seven Kingdoms. Theon Greyjoy most likely thought I was going to back out in fear of this particular bit of knowledge.

"Is he, really?" I said, looking at the older teen.

"Oh, yes." Theon said in a superior tone of voice; he probably thought he had me right where he wanted me.

"Then, yes, I'll challenge him after he gets settled in." I grinned ferociously. "It's settled, then. Would you like to issue the challenge on my behalf, or should I do it, myself?"

Theon had no answer.

Jon and Robb watched the display with amusement, while the adults stared at me like I was crazy.

I supposed the following days were going to be interesting, indeed.

This was some damn good venison, though.


	6. Kingslayer vs Dragonslayer

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 6: Kingslayer vs Dragonslayer  
**

It was around a week later, during Jon and I's morning sparring, that King Robert finally arrived.

In the past week, aside from increasing my speed during my spars with Jon at his urging— which seemed to drive him to reach new levels of skill and speed, I had retreated into the Wolfswood to understand the limitations on my power.

I could still manipulate it, just as freely as I did before, and shape it to whatever form I wished— I did this by first forming a few balls of Lightning, then some triangles, squares, my **Edge** , and swords.

I even tested out my **Lightning Dragon's Roar** on a boulder, obliterating it and a few dozen trees behind it.

Even as I stared at the sheer destructive nature of my power, I still frowned in consternation; it hadn't done as much damage as I was expecting. But then again, this world had different magic, different rules.

" _You should be glad you still have magic, at all."_ Erebus noted. " _Your body would not have lived if the magic had been torn from it."_

I had nodded and agreed. I could still crush anyone who wished to fight against me, so it really wasn't that big of a deal. I would have been worried, had there been other battle mages in this land— quick hint, they didn't exist, at least not to my knowledge.

The most I read about was that these sorcerers and warlocks used rituals instead of what I liked to call In-Your-Face-magic. I chided myself, of course; reading about them was one thing, and actually fighting them was another.

But, that was a problem for another time.

Speaking of training, Jon had already gotten so fast and strong that he was besting some of his Lord father's most experienced guards in spars— an insane leap in skill and power in such little time. Even Robb, who didn't train with us every single day, could tell that my training regime got results done.

Something I noticed these people didn't do was basic body exercises.

Sure, they trained with heavy swords and lugged armor around and the like, but they didn't do any specific training. No pushups, crunches, squats, or anything of the like. Forcing Jon to adhere to a strict daily routine had done wonders for him.

Of course, I convinced him to keep it a secret from the others— annoying questions, and whatnot.

I sidestepped Jon's lunge, putting my foot out to trip him, but he had come to expect this move from me, and stopped just in time, tackling me instead. I let out a loud " _oomph_ " and lost my footing, almost falling on my ass in the process.

Jon's eyes gave away his intention. I forced myself to fall and rolled to minimize damage, also allowing me to avoid Jon's follow up strike, a simple cleaving motion at my neck that would have sealed the end of the spar.

I got back up. "Not bad, Snow. Maybe I might have to take this a little seriously."

"Just wait, Potter." He allowed a smirk to graze his features. "I'm going to get you to use your real speed."

"Heh." I smirked right back. "You're centuries away from ever doing that."

"We'll see."

We shared a laugh, before schooling our features and getting into position to continue the spar.

"BRANDON!" Catelyn's almost frantic shout stopped our fight, as we turned to see the woman in question, as well as Maester Luwin, looking up at one of the high walls. Following her line of sight, we saw the boy in question, climbing down with the ease of a monkey.

"I saw the King!" Brandon said excitedly as he jumped down to the straw roof. "He's got hundreds of people!"

"How many times have I told you?!" She scolded loudly as he looked at her for a few seconds. "No! Climbing!"

"But he's coming right now!" Bran was still excited as he climbed down a wooden pole. Catelyn ran to him in concern as he landed without injury, and began to chastise him as all mothers did.

Jon rolled his eyes at the display, before turning to me.

"I think I'll spare you the humiliation of a defeat today, Potter." Jon grinned as he stowed away his practice sword, with me following suit.

"I'm sure." I shot back as word spread within the stronghold of the King's arrival like wildfire. Everyone hurried into their positions— guards, servants, stable boys, smiths and Lords alike.

"Go." I waved Jon off. "Stand with your family. I'll find somewhere to occupy space."

The boy in question nodded gratefully, before joining the flurry of people walking around. I stood and took it all in, for a few moments.

"Harry?" I heard a voice call from my right. It was Lord Eddard, decked out in his Lord Stark regalia as opposed to his every day wear. "What are you doing?"

"Oh." I said, a little embarrassed, gesturing at all the people getting into position. "I'm not exactly sure where I should be standing."

"Well, come on, then." Eddard gestured for me to follow, and I obeyed. "You can stand behind next to Maester Luwin."

"Ah—" I said eloquently. "Wouldn't that send some kind of message? I know I'm Jon's friend, but..."

"Nonsense." Eddard waved my concerns off. "From what I hear, you might be his employer, soon enough, and that makes you close to this family whether you like it or not."

"...Right." I said uncomfortably. "All right. I'll do it."

"We will have words on that subject later, lad." Eddard said, before realizing how intimidating that sounded.

"I expected nothing less." I smiled, knowing the man was just looking out for his son, and stood next to Maester Luwin, who gave me a quick greeting, and Jon. Lady Catelyn glanced at me shortly, before grimacing at the state of my hair.

I shrugged and half-smiled. She looked away.

A few minutes passed as excitement turned into boredom, before turning back into excitement as the sound of hooves hitting the dirt reached our ears, signaling the arrival of the King and his court.

The first to come in sight was a golden-blonde haired boy with green eyes, flanked on each side by men wearing gold armor with white enameling, and long, white cloaks— the Kingsguard, I realized.

Meaning this was a prince.

Another intriguing sight was a third rider from behind the boy, a very large man in heavy, black armor, with a helmet in the shape of a snarling hound's head, hiding his face within.

I followed the prince's line of sight, and noticed Sansa making googly eyes and smiling at him.

Maybe this would get her to stop crushing on me. The past week had been a little frightening. Everywhere I went, she would pop out of the woodwork, asking me to go on walks and the like. I always had an excuse, and it usually centered on me having to teach Jon something about fighting.

She ate it all up, and left me alone, her mind filling itself with images of wondrous knights coming to fulfill every dream she had.

In retrospect, telling her that might have made her even more interested.

I shook off these thoughts, as a large carriage, followed by more Kingsguard came in, with a fat man in the middle, wearing the same dark red leathers as the prince. I kneeled as everyone else did, not wanting to stand out as I watched a few servants drag a mobile wooden staircase for him to dismount onto.

I watched him as he struggled for a moment to get off the horse.

 _This is the King of Westeros? A fat fuck?_ I thought to myself incredulously as I watched him walk straight to the still kneeling Eddard. He stared down at the man for a few moments, before gesturing for him to stand up.

He did, and everyone else stood up as well.

The King was quiet, merely staring at Eddard.

"Your Grace." Lord Eddard bowed his head shortly.

A moment passed as the King gave Eddard a once-over.

"You've gotten fat."

I almost lost it, right there. Almost. It took every bit of self-control I possessed to not lose my shit. I saw Lord Stark tilt his head down, right in the direction of the King's gigantic gut, and the man narrowed his eyes before laughing and embracing Lord Stark.

The tension seemed to drop as he also embraced Catelyn, exchanging a short greeting.

"Nine years." King Robert said. "Why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace." Eddard said. "Winterfell is yours."

The carriage door opened, and out came a beautiful, blonde woman, a little disheveled but still making it look good, somehow. She stared at her surroundings in distaste, as if simply being here was a horrific experience to her.

"Where's the Imp?" Arya asked her sister, looking around.

"Will you shut up?" Sansa shot back, harshly.

The Imp?

"What have we here?" King Robert moved to the children, shaking hands with Robb. "You must be Robb."

He passed by Sansa, complimenting her on her looks, before leaning forward to Arya with a strange look on his face. "And your name is?"

"Arya." She answered immediately, looking him right in the eye. One brave kid, to be sure. Either that, or she had no survival instinct whatsoever. If anything, her boldness seemed to please the King.

My attention turned to one of the Kingsguard who had taken off his helmet, revealing the same golden blonde hair as the women walking towards Lord Stark— the Queen, I assumed.

"That's Jaime Lannister!" Arya said excitedly. "The Queen's twin brother!"

"Would you _please_ shut up?" Sansa said again, growing more and more irritated.

"So he's the one." I murmured to myself. Jon had stirred when he heard these words, and looked at the Kingslayer as well.

"My Queen." I heard Eddard say as he kissed the Queen's hand, followed by Catelyn bowing.

"Take me to your crypt." King Robert cut in. "I want to pay my respects."

"We've been riding for over a month, my love." Queen Cersei Lannister said, a hint of disapproval in her tone. "Surely, the dead can wait."

"Ned." King Robert nodded to Lord Stark, and walked away, as if he didn't hear her say anything. With a little hesitation, Eddard went with the man, leaving us all alone in the courtyard.

Everything turned into a flurry of activity as Lady Catelyn took charge, and showed the Royal family where they would be sleeping while all of the people of Winterfell began giving accommodations to their guest in preparation for the feast.

"You want to go back to our training?" I asked Jon, who was still standing next to me. "We could probably squeeze in another hour of training, or so, before I have to get ready for the feast."

Jon nodded gratefully, glad to be doing something. I knew the guy wasn't allowed to go because of his bastard status, something which pissed me off to no end. Still, I had told Lord Stark I would attend it, and I intended to keep my word.

And so we trained.

Hours rolled by and I left the man to his devices, promising to get him some food from the feast. Jon shook his head, and said he'd get some from the kitchens on his own.

Less work for me, heh.

I went to my room in the Smoking Log, and filled the large stone basin I had conjured days before with conjured water, which I heated up with _Incendio_ before divesting myself of my clothes and sitting in the makeshift tub _._

I took my time of it, scrubbing every little bit of grime and dirt from my body, the hot water soothing my sore muscles. Balthazar also let out a hiss of pleasure in my mind— the viper had been merged with me almost constantly for the past week, only coming out to read the many books I had.

Amazingly enough, Balthazar had already learned High Valyrian— in writing, at least. That would help a lot, when I went overseas to the East.

I sighed and lay my head back, letting my mind drift off.

" _The King was a sorry excuse for a man."_ Erebus rattled from his sheath near the tub. " _More fat than anything."_

"Yeah..." I agreed slowly, before grabbing my wand off the side and throwing a Silencer on the door. You couldn't be too careful, even in a world like this. Anyone could be overhearing conversations. "I agree. This is supposed to be the great man who conquered the Seven Kingdoms? The Rebel stag who destroyed armies with his war hammer?"

Still, Lord Eddard seemed to like him, enough; and if it's something I've learned about Jon's father, it's that it took a whole lot to get him to trust someone— or even like them. He still treated me with politeness, though that was slowly changing every time I talked to him.

And, why wouldn't the man who conquered the Kingdoms and brought forth peace and stability be allowed to relax and enjoy his accomplishment?

It was a weak reason, of course, but a reason nonetheless.

There seemed to be no visible dissent among the ranks, at least from what I've seen in the short few minutes I had watched these people's interactions. Sure, the King was fat, but he was good natured and spoke directly.

The Queen, Cersei, was the typical upper class bitch in the way she spoke and addressed everyone around her.

The Prince, Joffrey I later learned his name was, was also another brat whose only function was to stand there and try to look as majestic as he could while leering at Sansa, who seemed to get giddy every time he looked her way.

At least I could thank him for getting her attention off of me.

But, no wonder the King turned to food and drink, with a wife and son like that.

I got out of the makeshift tub and dried myself off with a quick charm, before donning my new outfit, which I made, myself, from fine silk I acquired from here.

It was a dark blue, long-sleeved Chinese-style shirt, which went over my black cargo pants— which I refused to part with. Besides, it looked inconspicuous enough that no one had questioned its origin in the weeks I had been here.

With my magic, I managed to imprint the image of a small dragon spewing bluish white lightning, though it took all of my concentration to do something so precise and intricate. It was a spell the Twins had taught me, changing the color of fabric— they spent a week using Ron as a test subject.

Ron's shirt would go from green, to blue to neon pink, to orange. He yelled at them at first, but then gave up, knowing that they would just make it worse if he kept complaining. Eventually, they got bored and left him alone.

Good times.

This particular change was on a smaller scale, and permanent. I finished the job by adding an Unbreakable Charm to the shirt, itself, before examining my handiwork, making sure to fix it up as best as I could.

"Acceptable." I murmured to myself as I stared down at myself. "What do you think, Erebus?"

" _It's fine. I presume you'll be leaving me here for the night?"_ Erebus replied.

I nodded. "Yes, I don't think bringing a sword to a feast is wise."

I waved my wand, and bandages wrapped themselves around my right arm, hiding the scales from view, before exiting the inn and making my way to the feast. The guards at Winterfell stepped aside, already familiar with me at this point.

I heard the noise of the feast long before I actually got there; a cacophony of music, raucous laughter and squeals every now and again. I entered the Great Hall, and went into the main dining chamber.

It was packed to full, with people eating, drinking, laughing, and talking, as a bard played a tune I didn't recognize, even after weeks of me being here.

"Harry!" I heard Robb call me over. "I saved you a spot."

I nodded with a smile, making my way over to the boy in question. He was sitting alone, looking relieved to have someone to talk to at last. My eyes strayed to the side of the room, where Theon was sweet talking a servant girl, and I rolled them before taking a seat next to Robb.

"Greyjoy abandoned you, eh?" I smirked.

"Aye." Robb answered, looking at what I was wearing. "Interesting choice of clothes."

"I finally got around to having it fixed." I lied, and piled a few legs of chicken onto my plate.

"Why the dragon?" Robb asked curiously. "And, is it spewing out lightning?"

"Yes, it is." I confirmed, taking a quick bite out of my food. "A sigil of my own making, the Lightning Dragon. It will be my House's sigil."

Robb had no words for a few moments. "Have you thought what your words are going to be?"

The Words; a set of words that each family seemed to constantly say. The Lannisters said: "Hear Me Roar"; the Starks said: "Winter Is Coming". It was a little strange, but I assumed it had its uses. Most likely, it would bring a sense of pride in the family name.

"I haven't." I admitted. "It's still a long way off. Honestly, the sigil is probably way too soon, as well."

I knew, back in my world, the Words of the Black family were "Toujours Pur", which was French for "Always Pure". I had no idea if the Potter family had any Words of their own.

I never asked.

"The Words would have to sound powerful." I said as I wiped my hand with a napkin. "I can't really think of anything. Maybe..."

 _§The Lightning Strikes.§_ Balthazar hissed in my mind.

I smiled, and repeated Balthazar's suggestion.

"Fitting." Robb said, remembering all of the spars I had with Jon, and him, sometimes. "You truly move like the lightning, quick and fierce."

I smirked. If only he knew my _true_ speed...

My gaze turned to the Prince, who was ogling Robb's sister, Sansa. The girl in question kept sneaking looks at him, before talking to the girl beside her in excited, but hushed tones.

"At least she's not going to bother me anymore." I murmured to myself.

"Did you say something?" Robb said from my right.

"It's nothing. Just thinking out loud." I assured, and we went back to eating.

Some time later, Robb broached another subject.

"So, when are you going to challenge the Kingslayer to a duel?" Robb asked lightly, directing the gaze at the man in question, who was making his way around the room.

I gave Robb a look, and got up. "Right now."

The boy in question sputtered as I sauntered over to the man, who had bumped into Lord Stark.

"—Would be good to have you on the field." Jaime Lannister said as I approached. "The competition has become a bit stale."

"I don't fight in tournaments." Eddard said simply.

Then, the Kingslayer leaned forward to the man, saying something to him, probably some taunt about his age or skill, I figured.

"I don't fight in tournaments." Eddard repeated. "Because when I fight a man for real, I don't want him to know what I can do."

I smirked and entered the conversation. "Well said, Lord Stark!"

The two turned their attention to me.

"And, you are?" Ser Jaime gave me a once over.

Eddard gave me a questioning gaze, which turned into understanding.

"Ser Jaime Lannister." Eddard said a little loudly, gaining some of the nearby people's attention. "May I introduce Harry of the House Potter hailing from the Free City of Myr."

"A pleasure, I'm sure." He turned and shook my hand.

"How are you finding the feast, so far?" Eddard asked curiously.

"The food is exquisite, as always." I smiled, before turning my gaze to the Lannister Kingsguard once more. "I wish to ask something of you."

Jaime nodded for me to continue.

"A duel." I said simply. "I'm told you're one of the most skilled fighters on this entire continent."

He was silent for a few seconds.

Then, a smirk.

"Why should I fight you?" He asked curiously. "You're no knight of renown. I've never heard of you. I've seen many like you, believing they can earn glory by defeating a swordsman of my calibre. They have all lost."

"Then you'll have no trouble agreeing to a duel?" I grinned, and then spoke a little louder. "Unless you're afraid, of course?"

The room went quiet, and looked at the both of us.

A few seconds passed.

"Very well, then. Tomorrow, in the morning." Jaime gave a smirk, though his eyes showed anger. "If you wish to suffer a humiliating defeat so much, who am I to stop you?"

The people in the room laughed at his jape, but I only smiled confidently as the music came back, and everyone diverted their attention back to their food and friends.

I sat back down next to Robb and Theon— he had rejoined the fold with a red palm mark on his face— who were giving me incredulous looks.

"You went and actually did it." Theon said, looking at me with a new respect in his eyes. "You must be mad to challenge the Kingslayer."

"Tell me something." I grabbed another chicken leg and took a large bite. It was getting a little cold. "How fast would word of my ability spread through the Seven Kingdoms when I beat this man in less than three blows?"

"Less than three—" Theon repeated, but shook his head, muttering about insane fools with egos the size of the island of Pyke.

Robb finally spoke. "Quite fast, I'd imagine. Defeating the Kingslayer in single combat is no small feat, and would go a long way in cementing your worth as an ally."

The words were measured, and logical.

That was the basis of my plan. This place was a backwards society with a Feudal system in place. I had money, and I was building friendship with the Starks, who I had come to respect after the time I spent here.

The King's arrival with this Lannister family only cemented it for me. Lady Catelyn might have been very anal about propriety and duty, but at least she didn't act like Cersei the bitch, or the King with his brazen infidelity. or Jaime Lannister with an arrogance that comes only from living your entire life with a silver spoon in your mouth.

Back to the earlier point. I had budding allies and the funds. What question would be asked next?

What's this man's worth in a war, or even fights?

Tomorrow, I would prove it, and beat this Jaime Lanni— "Wait, is that a blonde dwarf having a drinking contest with five burly men?" I blurted.

"Aye." Robb nodded. "The fabled Imp, Tyrion Lannister."

"This I have to see." I moved to join them.

The next morning found me back at the inn, waking up with a horrible headache. I swallowed the saliva that had been building up, noting that my breath smelled of alcohol.

"Ugh... What the hell did I do?" I muttered to myself.

 _§Got drunk.§_ Balthazar hissed, sounding as miserable as I was. _§You tried to outdrink the Imp and failed. Lord Stark had you brought to the inn, after you passed out.§_

I deadened my nerves slightly to lessen the pain, make it more bearable. A loud knock was heard.

"What is it?" I rubbed at my forehead in irritation.

"Beg your pardon, milord." I heard someone say shyly from the other side. "I was sent here to tell you that Ser Jaime is waiting for you at the Courtyard of Winterfell. He bids me to ask you to join him."

A few moments passed as I absorbed this information.

After a few quick waves of my wand to clean my clothes, I opened the door to see a nervous looking teen. Probably a messenger boy.

"Go tell them I'm on my way." I replied, grabbing Erebus off the side and placing the sword on my hip.

The boy nodded and ran off. I sighed, walked downstairs and asked for a cup of water to get some moisture back in my body and banish this dryness. I could have conjured it, but the real thing was almost always better.

With that done, I briskly made my way to the Courtyard, where a large group of people were waiting, with Jaime Lannister in the center, in his Kingsguard armor, smirking as he lay his eyes upon my form.

"No armor of your own, Potter?" He mocked, and the people around us laughed.

"I can certainly afford any armor, but it won't be needed." I said lightly, completely unconcerned with his attempts at taunting me. I saw the Stark family to the side, and gave them a nod.

Even the Royal family was here.

"So you're this 'Harry Potter' Ned has been speaking so much about." I flitted my eyes to the man in question, surprised despite myself.

"I am, Your Grace. My Queen." I gave a short bow to the both of them.

"Challenging the Kingslayer to a duel, boy?" The King scrutinized me for a few moments. "And, without any armor on. The folly of youth... Go on, then. Show us what you can do."

"Beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I presume you'll be the judge?" I asked with another bow.

"Yes." King Robert confirmed.

Perfect.

I turned to the Kingslayer, who looked supremely confident in his chances as he unsheathed his blade, a medium sized sword he held easily in his hand.

I would soon disabuse him of that notion.

The crowd's whispering got louder and louder, until the King stood and all went quiet.

"The rules of this duel are simple." King Robert spoke strongly. "You fight until you yield or lose consciousness. In the event that I consider one of you soundly defeated, I shall put an end to this fight and declare the winner, myself."

The silence continued as tension built in the air, invigorating me as I drew Erebus, the pure black Falchion drawing eyes to it.

"Begin!" Robert bellowed.

Jaime rushed me the moment the King signaled the start of the match, deciding to finish this as quickly as he could to ensure the maximum amount of humiliation I would suffer.

But my Lightning had suffused into my nerves and muscles long before that. I watched the man run to me, his motions dull and slow, and I tried to decide how badly I wanted to beat him, before smirking.

I sidestepped his thrust, and dodged the horizontal slash that followed by leaping backwards slightly. He sent a few more attacks, each one missing me by just a little bit, not enough to make him give up, but enough to get him frustrated.

His speed increased as his next salvo of attacks came— I guess he was taking it a bit seriously, now. It was all in vain, I thought as I went in close, easily dodging whatever counter he was preparing and smacking the pommel of Erebus right on his forehead, bruising the flesh and drawing a little blood as he staggered backwards clutching the wound.

The crowd gasped in disbelief at the display.

I gave the man enough time to gather himself, before he went on the offensive, once more. His attacks were fiercer, more ferocious now.

He knows I can wound him, I thought to myself as I began parrying his sword strikes with my own, negating any momentum he tried to gain, before punishing him for it by nicking his face or smacking the blunt side of my blade against his armor hard enough to bruise him.

I didn't want to kill the guy, after all.

Jaime stopped for a moment, lifting his blade over his head as he stood his ground, inviting me over to attack him, most likely thinking that, if my defense was good, maybe my offense was bad.

I would disabuse him of that notion as well.

I held my blade in my left hand as I ran to the Kingslayer, faking a thrust and flanking him from the right, dodging his counter thrust with ease before swinging horizontally, the sword singing through the air, which was going to chop off his head— if I didn't stop the blade before that happened.

I heard a few exclamations of surprise, fear and anguish as I held the blade to Jaime's neck, drawing blood slightly. The knight in question was frozen in place, a look of disbelief and frustration on his face.

"Do you yield?" I asked clearly and loudly for all to hear.

"I— I yield." Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, one of the most skilled fighters in the land of Westeros, said heavily.

Silence met his words.

And then, King Robert, himself, cheered loudly, breaking through the shocked silence. The crowd followed him soon after.

 **oooooooooo**

This should make people understand why I lowered Harry's power level because even with his lowered power, he still trounces anyone!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter~ See ya!


	7. Stories and Change of Plans

Ser Davos wants some mutton! :P

 **oooooooooo  
A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 7: Stories and a Change of Plans  
**

The cheering continued as I took my blade off of the Kingslayer's neck, wiping the blood off with my fine shirt— I would clean it later— and put it back into its bone-white sheath.

Turning my gaze, I saw Ser Jaime looking back at me, still in disbelief at what just happened.

"Is this the first time you've been defeated?" I said lightly as the cheers died down.

"No." Jaime said, giving me a look of mounting respect, even if it was of the grudging kind. "But the first since my childhood in which I was defeated so easily."

I moved closer and leaned towards him.

"So easily?" I whispered with a smirk plastered on my face. "You poor man. This was not my real speed, and remember, I only used one hand. It could have been much worse for you."

"You— you—" He said, my words disturbing him further than even the defeat had.

"A splendid battle, indeed!" I said loudly, extending my hand. "My thanks, Ser Jaime."

He dumbly shook it, before we turned to the King and gave short bows. Another cheer broke out, before the King stood from his seat and it died down once more.

I shared a look with Jon; he seemed amused at the whole thing, while everyone else gave me looks of astonishment. I could see the Stark children completely at a loss for words. Arya was hopping excitedly, Bran was staring, and— oh god, Sansa was ogling me again!

God damn it!

Fan girls were the worst. I dealt with their kind in recent years, when I began to actually notice girls. They were all self-absorbed girls who would often neglect their own prospective boyfriends just for a glimpse or to greet the Boy-Who-Lived.

The Queen, on the other hand, was sending me a furious stare— and so was her son, Joffrey.

" _Making enemies already?_ " Erebus spoke to me in my thoughts, indescribably amused at their impotent rage.

"That was a damn good fight!" King Robert seemed well entertained, at least, judging by the pleased look on his face. "Come on, Potter! I invite you to dine with me."

"I would be honored, Your Grace." I nodded gratefully, feeling a little hungry as we were led back to the Great Hall.

It was a much smaller affair, this time, as the King seemed to want the conversation to be of a more private nature. His wife, the Queen, was elsewhere, doing who knows what a southern lady did in places like Winterfell, opting out of the lunch. His other two children— I didn't know he had other children than that little shit, Joffrey— were sitting on the other table, eating with Bran, Rickon and Arya, all of whom kept sneaking glances at me.

Joining our table were Eddard and his wife Catelyn Stark. Jon sat to my right, trying to ignore Catelyn's death glare sent his way. He had reluctantly joined at my own request; I was going to be his 'employer', of sorts, so it was best he started dealing with nobility early on.

Behind the King were two of the Kingsguard, giving me looks of apprehension.

Heh, they probably knew I could destroy them any time I wanted, now.

"Food and wine!" Robert called out for the servants, and they scurried around to bring forth the food. It wasn't long before they filled the table with meats, breads and vegetables, the aromas causing my mouth to water in anticipation— I hadn't eaten since the night before. I grabbed some of the venison— that was really good, and began to dig in.

I was bothered by the fact that this world didn't have pepsi, but I had looked at the ingredients section of the cans I had consumed long and often enough to know what the mix was made of (corn syrup, sugar, caffeine, and two kinds of acid, among other small details which I could figure out through trial and error).

I was sure I would get around to it, eventually.

Jon looked very uncomfortable, sitting near the King. He'd probably never been honored like this his entire life. I'm sure his father's wife has probably never been so insulted.

I poked his side. He fidgeted, giving me a cross look, before sighing and relaxing.

"That was some fight, boy." The King said after devouring half of a chicken in the time it took for me to eat half of a small plate. "I've never seen anyone move like that."

"Nor I." Lord Stark agreed.

"And, that sword..." The King said, looking at said weapon at my side. "Never seen anything quite like it."

I smiled at the obvious question behind that statement. "Would you like to see it, Your Grace?"

I got a nod in response.

I unsheathed the sword, noticing the two Kingsguard tensing and placing their hands on their sword hilts. I gave them a superior, amused look, and passed the sword over to the man, who held it easily in one hand, forgetting his food for the moment.

As he examined the blade, I could see hints of his former warrior self, and not the fat disgrace he had become.

"What's it made of?" King Robert asked curiously, fingers caressing the metal as if it were a sacred relic. "Valyrian steel? No, it's too dark to be that. I've come across my fair share of Valyrian steel blades, and this is nothing like it."

"Aye." Eddard agreed, giving the black falchion a curious look, as well; most likely comparing to his own greatsword, a Valyrian steel blade by the name of Ice.

It was a fitting name for a blade owned by the head of a family that lived in the freezing North.

"I do not know what the material is, or even where to find it." I said honestly. "But I forged it over liquid rock, so hot that it could incinerate a man in seconds, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. I named it Erebus the Darkbringer."

A lie, of course, but it did fit with the story of my family being smiths— not that I knew how to make swords. I'm sure I could learn, given the opportunity to do so; it was only repeatedly hitting a piece of overheated metal with a hammer and shaping it to suit my needs, after all.

How hard could that be?

"Forged it yourself?" He looked impressed. "A smith and a warrior, in one!"

I pretended to give a dark look to nothing in particular, as if I was lost in memory. "A blacksmith, I no longer am. This was the first and final sword I made, and I used it to avenge my parents' death with it. I vowed to never make another, nor to teach this method to my children."

The King looked somber, glancing to the side of the building— where the crypts would be.

Lyanna Stark. His betrothed who was kidnapped by the Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.

"Aye, lad." Robert said seriously. "It sounds like quite a tale."

He gave me an expectant look. He wanted me to tell it?

So I told him— it was a story Balthazar, Erebus and I had concocted after the weeks we'd been here.

I spoke of my family who lived in the outskirts of Myr, as wealthy merchants who started out as smiths and steadily built their fortune, how they were killed by an evil warlock from the Shadowlands who wished to use their legendary smithing skills to forge him the dark blade the King was currently staring at. I spoke how I lived the past twelve years training my body to the limit, before confronting the warlock a few years back.

I spoke of how I chased him relentlessly, and of how he defeated me with trickery, killing my family's retainers, before escaping into the Shadowlands once more.

"I found, among my retainers' possessions, the strange metal that the warlock wished to be used to forge the weapon you hold in your hand." I said heavily, as everyone stared at the blade. "Along with a message left to me, explaining exactly how to forge this sword, and wishing me luck. I mourned for my retainers, before venturing to the nearest volcano I could, and forging Erebus."

"Then." I smiled to myself, knowing everyone had been staring at me for the past few minutes of this tale. "After many months of searching, I found the warlock, who was hiding behind fortified walls and a small army he had bewitched to blindly follow his cause. I knew that I stood no chance of killing this vile man. I was alone, and friendless."

"What did you do, then?" Arya asked excitedly, before being shushed by Bran and the other children.

"I circled his stronghold." I said. "Some time later, I found an empty path, bereft of any enemies whatsoever. While it looked suspicious, it was my best chance to reach the warlock, as any other avenue would have forced me to fight dozens of men."

"Strangely enough." I continued, scratching my chin for a few moments. "The path led all the way to the warlock's throne room, but..." I waited for a second. "He had been expecting me, with a surprise of his own."

I looked down, clenching my fist hard, enough to make it shake. "My retainer's son. A boy I called brother. A boy I had played with, worked with, and bled with. The warlock had force fed him basilisk's blood and kept him in a cage."

I heard Lady Stark gasp in horror.

"The warlock opened the cage, and out came my dear friend." I shook my head. "I did not wish to hurt him, but there was no choice." I looked up fiercely. "The blood had turned him into a feral beast, attacking everything he could see with his hands, legs, teeth— even trying to bash me with his very head. I… killed him as gently as I could, and then I fought the warlock, himself."

"It was not the easy win he was expecting, like the previous time we had fought." I said with a humorless smile. "The sword he had long wished to forge negated all of his blood magics, making him but a useless sniveling man, begging for mercy which I wouldn't grant him. I tore his stomach open and he died soon after, but... He put a curse upon me with his dying breath." I said as I gestured at my bandaged right arm.

"A curse, you say?" The King repeated warily, his gaze flitting to my bandaged right arm. "What sort of curse?"

"I do not know what it is, but it has turned my arm into a monstrosity." I said heavily. "The Bane, he called it. I believe he intended to curse my whole body, not just one arm. I am glad he failed in that endeavor."

They stared at my bandaged arm for a few moments.

I patted it lightly. "I keep it covered because I do not wish to inflict any undue stress on anyone— it is a very disconcerting sight. Not fit for the eyes of children." I gave the Lady Stark a pointed look.

She understood and ushered them all out of the Great Hall, leaving me with Jon, Eddard, the King and his Kingsguard. I waited until Arya's loud protests faded out entirely, before deciding to show them.

I got off my seat, looking around. Okay, no more kids, I thought as I took off my shirt, revealing my muscled form and my bandaged right arm, which I proceeded to unbandage, to the room occupants' growing stares of astonishment and horror.

It was a wicked looking arm, for sure. Hexagonal black scales covered every inch of it, though they lost their form at my shoulder, looking more like tendrils grasping at my body, there.

"By the gods!" King Robert said. Eddard and Jon merely looked at me in shock and concern. It was a little heartwarming to see, actually.

"This is the punishment for arrogance." I said heavily. "I should have chopped the warlock's head clean off, but I wanted him to suffer before he died, and I paid dearly for it."

A few seconds of silence passed.

"At first, I had thought it was some form of the dreaded grey scale." I continued, flexing and twisting my right arm curiously. "But it did not spread over my body, or the bodies of others— I made sure to test it out thoroughly." I added to assuage their concerns. "I did not lose my sanity, either. I do not know why this is called the Bane. Whose bane is it? My own? Questions I will never have answers to, I'm afraid."

I put my shirt back on, before simply wrapping my forearm and covering the rest with my sleeve, before resuming my seat at the table.

The King was still looking at me in astonishment.

"I apologize if the sight of my arm has offended you, Your Grace, Lord Stark." I said, shortly.

"No, no." He waved it off quickly, drawn back to reality once more. "I had never truly believed in the existence of such a thing as magic. To see its horrors firsthand... Such a vile thing."

I shook my head. "The warlock did this. I have met a few practitioners of magic— green seers, skin changers and the like— on my travels, and none of them possessed the warlock's hatred, his greed for power. Perhaps a degree of wariness and suspicion from having to hide from the ignorant masses, of course, but that warlock... He was an evil man, and used his magic much like the Smiling Knight used his sword to wreak havoc on the peoples."

"Wisely said." Eddard said, after a few moments. "And, fear not, Harry. I have not taken offense."

"I apologize to you, Jon and Lord Stark, as well." I added.

The two gave me a questioning gaze.

"I have grown secretive when it comes to the appearance of my arm." I gestured at the arm in question. "I did not mean to convey any form of mistrust when I did not show it to you."

"It's all right, lad." Eddard actually smiled. "Understandable, under such circumstances."

"Aye." Jon agreed, still staring at my hand in amazement. "It looks rather fierce."

"Yes." I admitted. "The scales can withstand the slashes of a steel greatsword wielded by a large man— I had one test it for me, after I made sure it was no danger to others."

"And you defeated the Kingslayer without even using it." Jon blurted out.

"Yes, well..." I smirked. "I have trained long and hard in my life."

"Aye." Jon smirked back.

I turned to the King once more.

"May I have my sword back, Your Grace?" I asked.

"Of course." He answered and handed it back to me.

I put it back in its bone-white sheath, and sat back down to eat.

"How old are you?" The King asked as I chewed on some more venison.

"Sixteen, Your Grace." I replied easily.

"Sixteen and already an incredible fighter, the likes of which these lands have never seen." Robert gave me a calculating look. "Just what are your plans, here?"

I smiled. The man was more than drinks and food, I saw that now.

"I plan on re-establishing my House, and possibly forming a Guild." I said to the man.

"A Guild?" The King repeated.

"Yes." I said, gesturing at Jon. "Jon, here, will become a part of it when he changes his mind about joining the Night's Watch. He'll be my second in command."

" _When_?" Jon repeated, sputtering slightly.

"And what exactly is it he'll be doing, as your second in command? And you, for that matter?" Eddard asked me, cautiously.

"Well." I started, sharing a quick look with Jon. "For now, we'll be travelling the Seven Kingdoms, in search of a place to set our guild up. I have only been to the North, so I wish to observe the remaining six Kingdoms before I make my choice in where to acquire land. My... duel—" I said with a smirk. "— with Ser Jaime will bring me notoriety my work will require."

"And the work is?" Eddard pushed on.

"Mercenary work, among others."

"A sell-sword?" Robert sputtered out. "You've travelled all the way to Westeros to become a sell-sword?"

"That is the gist of it." I confirmed. "I am no Lord, nor a Knight, Your Grace, Lord Stark. I see no other alternative— unless one of you grants me a knighthood, perhaps?"

King Robert and Lord Stark looked incredulous, before letting out a loud bellow of laughter— the both of them.

"Asking the King and a Great Lord for a knighthood." Robert shook his head incredulously as he took another gulp of wine. "The boldness of this man, Ned."

He was calling me 'man', now. Not 'boy'.

"Aye, Your Grace." Eddard agreed.

I waited patiently, as the two men stared right back, while Jon tried hard not to get their attention.

"I have a counter proposal for you, Harry." Eddard said.

"...I'm listening." I said after a moment. Jon merely nodded.

"You accompany us to King's Landing in a few days' time, as part of my personal guard." Lord Stark said. "Pledge your service to House Stark, and I shall grant you the knighthood you seek after you prove your valor to me."

I said nothing, and he continued. "You have already shown the world that you are easily one of the best swordsmen in Westeros, if not the world. Choosing this path would only make things easier for you, without the taint that being a sell-sword brings to the House you wish to establish."

I considered his words; his plan _was_ better, and would benefit me more in both the short and long terms.

"I—" I gathered my thoughts. "It is a generous offer. Truly."

But, pledging my service, my life to this man? I supposed that, out of all the lords in this land, the Starks were who I seemed to agree with. If the Lannisters were anything to go by, all the other Lords in the south would be a bunch of overindulgent pricks.

Over the few weeks I had been here, I had seen how the Stark family interacted with those around them. While they did consider themselves as Lords of these people, they seemed to treat them more like family. Lord Stark, himself, could be seen speaking with the smiths, the servants, the cooks and everyone in between whenever he could.

He considered them all as his extended family.

And that's all I needed to know.

"I accept." I said finally. "Do I have to kneel and swear fealty, or something?"

"We'll dispense with the formalities later." The King said, diving back into his meal. "For now, more wine!"

And so, we continued with the lunch, Robert and Eddard exchanging japes and laughs while Jon and I did the same.

"What about the Wall?"

Mostly.

"I'm still going with you to check it out, at the very least." I said. "Don't worry about that. My horse Geryon is ridiculously fast."

"Is he now?" Jon asked lightly. "Just like with..."

He nodded at me.

"Something like that. I'll tell you on the way there."

"All right."

"Lord Stark." I addressed the man.

"Yes?" He asked after swallowing his food.

"Before I pledge my service." I said. "I thought I would accompany Jon to visit the Wall, let him make up his mind on whether to join the Night's Watch, or not."

"Visit the Wall?" The King said after almost choking on his drink, turning to the boy in question, who looked mortified at the attention about to be heaped upon him. "Join that band of thieves and rapists?"

"It is an honorable calling, Your Grace." Eddard said quietly, after a few moments of silence. "Starks have manned the Wall for thousands of years."

"An honorable calling." King Robert repeated in a mocking tone, turning his steely gaze to Jon. "The dumping ground for bastards, criminals and unwanted, unworthy children, more like. No, boy. The Wall might have been honorable once, but its new recruits are taken from the dungeons in King's Landing, as well as other great cities. Plenty of better ways to find recognition than devoting yourself to a group of society's scum while freezing on that damned Wall at the edge of the world! Go with Potter, here. Make a name for yourself, at his side."

A very, very long moment passed.

Jon looked down, and nodded once.

"Of course, Your Grace, Father. Harry and I shall accompany you to King's Landing."

I supposed having the King himself say it was enough to finally get Jon to give up on that idea. Honestly, I figured he only thought it up because it was his only way out of Winterfell, away from Lady Catelyn who treated him with all the scorn she could muster.

It was enough to tie knots in a grown man's stomach, and just reminded me of Aunt Petunia used to look at me. Eyes filled with scorn and derision— no child should have had to endure that.

"Don't worry, Jon." I smiled. "It's going to be great, you'll see. And besides, we'll get to see new places, meet interesting people, and possibly fight them if they irritated us— or me, at least. You would just stand there and take it, or say something deep about honor or some such."

The King guffawed at my words.

"Takes after you, then, Ned?"

Lord Eddard opened his mouth to speak, before shutting it and giving his son a bemused but proud look, instead.

"Aye. That, he does."

Jon kept looking like he wanted to run away from the Great Hall.

A few hours later found Jon and I in the training yard, trading blows at a furious rate. I could tell my friend was agitated, but who could blame him? Realizing that he was close to throwing away his future for a life surrounded by criminals and rapists would upset anyone.

Jon was even more so. He was like I used to be; quiet, withdrawn, hyperaware of people's feelings and extra careful about the words he chose when speaking to them, not wanting to make anyone unhappy, and realizing the consequences of that happening.

"I can tell you want to say something to me." I said as I pushed him back.

Jon said nothing, instead flanking me from the right and sending a diagonal slash, which I avoided by pivoting my body slightly, the practice sword harmlessly passing by as I moved in close, sweeping the boy's feet from under him.

"You can say it." I gave him the time to get back on his feet. "You can tell me anything. I don't care if you offend me."

"It was my only way out of here." He said as his strikes increased in ferocity and speed, ferocious like a direwolf. "You don't understand what it's like, being a bastard!"

"Being looked at like a disease, knowing I am the source of disgrace for my father." Jon continued with both his verbal and literal onslaught, now swinging his sword like a man possessed. "Dreaming my mother would come for me, some day! Wanting to hate my brothers for being more than I ever could be!"

He smashed the practice sword so hard against mine the wood cracked and broke instantly.

He stared at his broken sword, before deflating, looking down at his hands in hopelessness.

"The Wall... it was all a lie." Jon said heavily. "I didn't believe you when you told me of it— everyone I knew either said nothing or spoke of how there was honor in being a man of the Night's Watch, my uncle Benjen, especially. I saw him last night, you know?"

"Before your fight with Ser Jaime." Jon continued. "He came to me, knowing I was possibly taking the black. He was mocking me, for my choice. ' _I'm sure it will be thrilling to serve in such an elite force'_ , he said."

I sat down next to Jon.

"I know what it's like." I said. "To be alone, friendless, surrounded by enemies on all sides."

Jon winced, and made to apologize.

"None of that, my friend." I said, giving him a small nudge. "People like us... We need to stick together. The world is large, cruel and unforgiving— you've already had a taste of it. It only gets worse, out there."

"Aye." Jon said.

"I plan to build a place for people like us." I said slowly, but strongly. "I don't like the idea of being a Lord over them, but if that's what it takes to make the other Lords respect me, then I will do it. I certainly have the money for it."

"...How much do you have, anyway?" Jon asked after a few moments of hesitation.

I told him.

And then I stood up and walked away from his shocked face.


	8. Bran

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 8: Bran  
**

My eyes fluttered open as I took in my new, but temporary surroundings. The night before, I had taken the oaths required to serve a Lord in Westeros.

Well, most of them. The Lord Stark had been quite perturbed by my complete refusal to say one part of it— specifically the part which stated I would give my life for his if the situation called for it.

He eventually accepted it, after a bit of a heated debate between the two of us. I'll admit that I used a few compulsions to get this done. Being subjected to the Imperius Curse in my Fourth Year at Hogwarts had taught me many tricks of the mind, though Lord Stark had quite the strong will to contend against.

Jon had given him the expected vow earlier, in private.

I guess I could've sworn to give my life to him; it wasn't an issue of that, I liked the Starks well enough. Lord Eddard was a good man, and I would never let good men die if I could help it.

With that said, I didn't want to die, either.

So, following my own vow, Lord Stark vowed something in return. He had said: "I vow that you shall always have a place in my home and at my table, and that I shall ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor."

All things considered, it was a pretty good deal that would save up on a lot of room fares in the long run— not that I needed to save up on anything. Converting the contents of my pouch gained me millions of gold dragons. The wonders of magic never ceased to amaze me.

As for serving the Starks, I could just mooch off of them, and what did they want in return? They wanted loyalty, and they wanted me to fight for their causes— it just so happened that the Starks had causes very similar to mine.

Mine were just much more refined, that's all. While Lord Eddard treated all of his subjects equally and with kindness, I knew there were likely dissenters to that sort of mindset; money grubbers who take bribes, those who terrorize the weak and helpless.

The brazen thieves in Torrhen's Square were proof enough of this. The fact that they could openly operate like this spoke of the corruption within that city— and I was sure this applied to many others.

Lord Eddard upheld the status quo; things didn't get worse, but they didn't really get better, either.

I wanted to create a place where the low born could have opportunities. In the North, I respected the Starks at least, for living hard lives in comparison to the Lannisters, or Baratheons. From the fat ass King Robert to the dainty, self-absorbed cunt Queen.

Back to the main point at hand, Lord Stark's vow basically got me a place in Winterfell, so I had to sleep in the guard quarters. Luckily I was allowed to find an empty room for myself— I had cited the excuse of my arm disturbing the others, and it was eaten up immediately.

Pretty much everyone knew of the state of my arm now.

Harry of the Blackscale they started calling me.

It was most likely meant to be disparaging, but I took it in stride, correcting people when they called me Harry; asking them to call me Blackscale instead. This obviously took the wind out of the sails of the petty movement.

A movement which was most likely perpetrated by that cunt Cersei after I absolutely humiliated her brother Jaime in that joke they all called a fight. Heh.

A smile came to my face as I got out of bed, freshened up a little and headed to the Great Hall at a leisurely pace. Today was the last day I would get to be at Winterfell, before marching with the King and his court to King's Landing.

I wanted to enjoy a nice breakfast, do some training with Jon, commune with the heart tree in the Godswood, and generally stare at the beautiful scenery outside of the stronghold itself.

Only, it was not to be.

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was stifling, almost suffocating with its sheer heaviness. I had noticed that the servants were rushing faster than usual, with a sense of urgency I had attributed to the presence of the King.

As I approached the table Jon and Robb sat upon, I saw their food completely untouched. Their faces were marred with lines of worry, and their eyes wide with fear— but from what?

I stopped in front of their table.

"What's wrong?" I asked hesitantly, seeing them look up at me slowly. "Did something happen?"

They didn't answer for a long moment.

"Bran, he..." Robb said finally, hollowly. "He fell off one of the towers. They found him early in the morning— he'd been lying there all night. Maester Luwin doesn't know if he's going to survive."

"Even if he does." Robb swallowed hard. "His legs, they're bent in— he can't..."

I understood.

"Where is he now." I said evenly, the question sounding more like a statement.

Robb looked down again.

"In his room." Jon answered in his place.

I nodded, and left the Great Hall to make my way to his room. I got lost, a little bit, as I wasn't particularly good friends with the boy— he was much younger than me, after all. But, following the increased presence of guards to its source led me to the boy's room.

I nodded at the guards, and they stepped aside to allow me entry.

Lady Catelyn was at Bran's bedside, looking like she'd been crying as she kept stitching something together in worry. Lord Stark also sat there, his face grim and made of steel, though it was obvious he was struggling to hold all of his feelings in with his boy lying there in his bed, looking so weak.

Maester Luwin, on the other hand, was checking the boy at a rushed, but methodical pace, making sure his temperature was normal, making sure he kept breathing, and generally checking his vital signs.

The man looked tired and weary, having worked through most of the morning.

A few steps in, and they noticed my presence, all three looking at me.

"I came as soon as I heard." I said simply, moving closer. "I want to help Bran."

They didn't answer, right away.

"Harry." Eddard said, seemingly struggling to say the words. "I— I don't believe you can..."

He went quiet.

Maester Luwin took over for him. "Are you proficient in the healing arts?" He asked me.

"I would not say I'm a great healer." I started. "But I have been on the receiving end of many treatments for injuries. I've learned quite a bit."

Both from that, and from Daphne.

They said nothing.

"All I ask is for the chance to help him." I said, staring at the boy in question. His skin had lost most of its color, and his breathing was ragged and harsh.

Eddard gave me the most piercing gaze he could muster; a wintry look that promised eternal suffering to those who wronged him.

He nodded, and I moved forward, making sure to close the door and windows, before locking them and pulling out my wand.

"Do not fear." I said slowly at their tensing. "I am ensuring no one sees what I'm about to do."

"And what, exactly, are you about to do?" Eddard said dangerously, standing to his full height and glaring down on me.

I winced. "Maybe that sounded a little threatening, sorry. I'm going to try to heal him, Lord Stark."

"How does locking the doors and shutting the windows heal my Bran?" Lady Catelyn spat out suspiciously, looking at my stick.

"Tell me, Lord and Lady Stark, Maester Luwin." I said. "What ability did the Children of the Forest possess that the First Men didn't?"

That question hung in the air for a moment.

"Surely you don't mean—" Luwin said.

"Yes. That was the only part I left out from my life's story. I possess a control over Magic itself." I confirmed. "I will heal him— on one condition."

"What is it?" Eddard asked, his countenance calm.

"You tell no one of what I'm capable of." I answered simply. "No one can know. I don't wish to be hunted down for this. You promise me your silence, and I'll heal him, or at least try my hardest."

Luwin looked dubious. Lord Stark had his eyes closed, considering my words heavily.

"Do it."

I turned to look at Lady Catelyn, who had spoken.

"Save my son." She said, trying to hold back her tears. "But if you are lying..."

I nodded, and moved to the child, examining him more closely. He was almost completely naked, with a small sheet covering his crotch. There were bruises and cuts all over his body, though the bulk of his damage lay in his legs.

They were broken, twisted, the bruising inflated as his body tried to fight against the infection.

I waved my wand over his body and cast an inspection charm. A small light covered his body for a few seconds, before dying out.

"Just making sure I didn't miss anything with my eyes. His legs have been twisted in such ways that no regular method of healing would fix them. I'm sure Maester Luwin knows this much."

The man in question nodded.

"His spinal cord was cut." I said heavily. "Even if his legs are fixed and his life is saved... I don't know if he can walk after that. Unless... Maybe it's possible."

"Harry?" Maester Luwin got my attention.

"Maester." I said. "Lord Stark. I want you to hold him down for me. Lady Stark, this will hurt Bran. Are you sure you wish to be here?"

"Yes." She said with no hesitation. "I'm not leaving my boy's side."

If only you had that kind of love for Jon, I thought to myself as Lord Stark and Maester Luwin went on each side of the bed, placing their hands on Bran's chest.

"Very well." I said, and pointed my wand at one of his legs, before looking at the two men.

They nodded.

I nodded back, took a deep breath, and said " _Brackium Emendo!"_

Blue light exited from my wand connecting with Bran's left leg. Immediately, the sound of snaps and clicks were heard as the boy's bones rearranged themselves, untwisting and repairing themselves.

Bran screamed and thrashed, even in his deep unconscious sleep. He thrashed so hard that Lord Stark and Maester Luwin almost lost hold of him. Lady Catelyn was standing, looking tense and stricken at the sound of her boy's screams.

She almost lunged at me for hurting her boy, until she saw the results.

And how could she not? His right leg was still twisted and broken, while his left looked almost pristine, with the exception of the bruising and cuts.

I sighed. That spell had taken a toll on me. I was not a good healer, relying more on my large pool of power to negate any lack of skill I possessed in the art.

I took another deep breath. Lord Stark and Maester Luwin looked astonished at my accomplishment, but put their hands on the boy's chest again.

They nodded at me.

"Now for the other leg. _Brackium Emendo!_ " Out the blue light came, once more, followed by the snaps of bone and the screams of the boy, then the stifled sob of Lady Catelyn.

I staggered back; feeling like I had fought against a dragon, but the results spoke for themselves. Bran's legs had fully healed. I checked with my diagnostic charm once more, and nodded to myself.

His spinal cord was now reattached, but the lower end seemed to be "inactive", for lack of better word. The diagnostic spell allowed me to see Bran's nerve system, and, while it was very "active" above his waist, there was nothing to be seen below it.

There was only one thing I could do, now.

Hopefully it wouldn't kill him.

I took another deep breath.

"There is one more thing I must do." I said. "I must re-energize his spinal cord."

"His spinal— ah yes, the fluid running from within his spine." Maester Luwin said, before adopting a look of astonishment. "It can be returned to life?"

"I think so." I said, before looking at Catelyn and Eddard. "Actually, I might be the only man capable of doing it. I'm not sure if it will work, but I have to try, or Bran will never walk again."

"Will it hurt my boy?" Lady Catelyn asked.

"No, it won't hurt Bran." I said. "It will either heal, or it won't."

Again, no hesitation. "You have already healed his legs. You have earned my trust, Harry Potter."

I smiled slightly, before adopting a serious expression, before requesting them to flip the boy so he'd be sleeping on his stomach. The two men obeyed, and I traced my hand along the boy's spine, closing my eyes and concentrating.

A blue light and a small buzzing sound was seen and heard as my Lightning connected with the boy's spinal column. I closed my eyes so I could _see_ Bran's bodily energy better.

"The cut was... here." My fingers stopped right above the boy's bottom, almost at the edge of his spinal column. "Anything below this is deadened in comparison to the rest."

"There is still a chance. All it would take is a single spark to bring it all back to life." I said, and injected my Lightning into that spot, flooding every inch of his nervous system with my power. Bran's body tensed as he took in a deeper breath than usual, before relaxing as I withdrew my energy.

I backed off for a few moments, and waited for my own energy to be fully absorbed in his body.

"Is it done?" Lord Stark asked after a long silence.

"I must wait a short while before re-assessing his condition." I said slowly. "I don't wish to give you a false reading. My power circulates his body still, in an attempt to heal his legs' ability to move."

"Your power." Lord Stark repeated.

"Yes." I said. "It was why the warlock attempted to use my family to forge Erebus for him. Our smithing required the use of our special abilities. The name Darkbringer does not simply allude to the blade's color. It _is_ Darkness, itself."

"Why did you not speak the truth?" Eddard said, but with no heat in his words— I had healed his son, after all. "The whole truth?"

I waited a few moments before speaking.

"The masses fear what they do not understand." I said heavily. "The religion of the Seven would surely call for my death, simply because of what my abilities could mean to the foundations of that religion. The King, himself, hates magic—"

"Robert is..." Eddard started but I cut him off.

"No, Lord Stark." I said, harshly. "You saw how he reacted. He saw my arm and his first response was to vilify the practice of magic, itself. If the leader of all the Seven Kingdoms behaves in this manner, what does that say of all of his subjects?"

Another long silence passed.

"I apologize." I said, looking down. "If you wish for me to leave your service, after this, then I will—"

"No, lad." Lord Eddard said. "You are saving my son's life, and ensuring his future. To turn you away after you've shown me kindness beyond measure is the most dishonorable thing a man can do."

"Our arrangement stands." Eddard said firmly, putting his hand on my shoulder and squeezing slightly.

I ducked my head in thanks. "Thank you, Lord Eddard."

"Ned." He corrected.

"Huh?"

"Those who have earned my friendship may call me Ned." Lord Stark explained, smiling.

"All right. Ned." I smiled back, before turning to Bran once more, and extending my senses to the boy. No presence of my power remained. I cast the diagnostic charm, and smiled slightly.

"I think it worked." I said, but spoke quickly before any could celebrate. "We won't know for sure until he wakes up, but my diagnostic seems to show a complete recovery of his nervous system."

"When will he wake?" Lady Catelyn said.

"I don't know." I said honestly. "His body is in a healing coma. I've helped the process along as much as I can, so all that's left is for Bran to come back to us on his own. If we wake him prematurely, it might damage him in some way."

"Harry is correct." Maester Luwin, who had been looking at me in unabashed astonishment until now, agreed with my words. He looked down, ashamed. "Lord Stark. I apologize... If Harry here hadn't helped..."

"Think nothing of it." Ned said strongly. "I know Bran is as precious to you as he is to us. We have all helped to raise the boys— all the boys."

Luwin nodded mutely, before giving me a deep bow of gratitude.

"Hey, come on, man." I said, switching to my home world's vernacular for a moment. "Don't beat yourself up over this. I doubt a single person on this entire continent could have done as much as you did for Bran. The only reason I was able to do more was because of my magic."

"Yes. Your magic." Luwin looked up. "It makes sense now— why you would simply change the subject when I started speaking of the impossibility of magic's existence."

I chuckled. "That obvious?"

"I had simply thought it to be a young man's yearning for a world of adventure and magic." Luwin smiled slightly. "But to think you possess the same magics as the Children of the Forest..."

"Strange fate, isn't it?" I smiled back, before turning to the Stark parents and nodding.

"I'll come back later to check on Bran." I said as I moved to the door. "If you need me, I'll be in the Godswood."

I waited until they nodded back, before leaving without another word. I moved through the stronghold, noting all of the sad and withdrawn faces, glad to know that they would change into happiness when they learned that Bran was going to be fine.

I went in the Godswood, and zoned in on the heart tree at the center, taking in its splendor and size as I approached the ancient tree.

There, I saw Robb, Arya, Jon, and Sansa, all quietly seated and praying. It was a sobering thing to see the wild girl Arya with a solemn gaze marring her usually happy features.

The children turned to look at me.

"Bran will be fine." I said, and their faces lit up.

"Before you ask, he's not awake, yet." I said. "I'm not really sure when he will wake up, but I'm sure he'll have quite the story for us— like why he was climbing the tower at night, in the first place."

"Aye." Robb said. "Bran has always been sure-footed."

"What are you saying?" Sansa asked while Jon's face darkened at the implications. Arya looked confused.

Robb and I shared looks.

"You think someone pushed him." I said slowly.

"What!?" Arya said, finally catching on after I said it.

"Aye." Robb nodded in certainty. "I have never seen Bran lose his balance and fall while climbing— even when he first started."

"Yeah." I agreed. "I've seen his escapades. Drove your mother crazy, he did, but he never fell. He never even got close to falling."

"We have to find whoever did this!" Arya said.

"And do what?" Jon cut in with a scoff. "Bring them to justice? We need proof, and we won't get proof until Bran wakes up. Only he knows what happened last night."

"Maybe." I said a little distractedly as an idea came to mind. "Then again, maybe not."

A few moments passed as they all looked at me.

"Harry?" Jon caught my attention. "What are you thinking?"

"What about... Hm... " I spoke aloud, before nodding.

"Harry?" Robb tried.

"I'm going to investigate the place he fell from." I said after a few moments of silence, turning to leave the Godswood. I gave the heart tree one last look, before turning to leave.

"We're coming with you." Robb said as I heard the pitter patter of multiple footsteps. "All of us."

I turned back to see them giving me a challenging gaze.

"No." I refused them. "If it is as you say, then your presence will tip whoever did this off, and they'll escape before any of us can figure anything out."

"But—" Arya protested but I cut her off.

"Patience is a virtue." My words were calm and measured, but that didn't stop them from being cutting. My gaze softened. "Look. You guys don't know the first thing about investigating a scene. You don't know what to look for."

"And, you do?" Sansa asked with a heated look in her eyes— this girl's moods jumped from north to south. One day she's infatuated with me, the next she's angry.

"Yes." I said harshly. "I won't sugarcoat things for you like the fools who are afraid of offending your highborn sensibilities."

Their eyes widened at the words. Jon looked a mix of impressed at my way of speaking and offended he'd been lumped together with his trueborn siblings.

"Not only are you likely to reveal your knowledge to the offender, but you'll also ruin whatever investigation I have in mind." I continued undaunted. "So, no. You won't interfere. Is that understood?"

I didn't wait for an answer, merely turning and leaving the Godswood to make my way to the tower from which Bran had fallen, muttering about idiot kids and them needing to be brought down a peg or five hundred.

 _§They're just worried about their brother, you know.§_ Balthazar said after a while.

I sighed. The snake was right, of course.

 _§I'll apologize to them, later.§_ I hissed in low tones as I pulled back into an isolated spot, away from prying eyes, before pulling out my wand. _§But, they needed to hear that. I'm going to create a world in which everyone will be respected equally. I don't care how many people I have to offend, or even beat into submission.§_

I tapped my wand on top of my head. Cold trickles of magic trailed over my body, connecting together and shielding my presence as best as they could by making me invisible to the naked eye.

It would take an alert lookout with perfect to even detect the vibrations in the air that signal my presence— I doubted I would be seen. I exited the isolated spot, before making my way to the tower in question.

It was an old, abandoned structure, I noted as I moved past the spot where Bran had obviously fallen, judging from the blood on the ground. I entered the tower silently, and carefully, walking up the stairs without making a single sound.

" _Homenum Revelio."_ I whispered as I waved my wand.

Nothing. No one was here.

I relaxed a little, before making my way up the tower, still under the cover of invisibility.

 _§Ugh...§_ Balthazar gave me the mental image of a retch.

 _§What is it?§_ I hissed back, a sense of urgency in my reply.

 _§It reeks...§_ Balthazar replied. _§Further up.§_

I nodded, moving further up. _§I don't smell anything. Wait...§_ I sniffed at the air for a few moments, detecting a hint of... something.

Unmistakable, this was a man's quickly drying sperm.

"Someone was having sex here." I muttered to myself as I entered the room, where the smell seemed to be strongest. The room itself was covered in a heavy layer of dust, with the exception of one spot, where the dirt was cleared. "But who...?"

I knelt and examined the ground carefully, my eyes catching sight of something odd. Long strands of golden hair.

Lannister hair.

And, among the Lannister, only one had hair this long.

"The Cunt Queen did this?" I said to no one.


	9. Consequences

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 9: Consequences  
**

 _§So, the Queen is having some night time adventures.§_ Balthazar joked with a drawling hiss. _§I don't what the big deal is; you had that one night with Ginny. You know, the one in which I stuck my tail up her—§_

 _§—YES, I know. Shut up about it, will you?§_ I harshly cut the viper off; that particular horrific memory didn't need to be unearthed once more. I focused my attention back to the golden strands of hair on the ground.

I needed to think this through, calmly and logically.

Thoroughness was investigation's best friend.

 _§The issue isn't that the Queen is getting the dick.§_ I hissed out thoughtfully. _§Bran found the two people— at least, I'll assume it was two people doing it. He must have heard the noise or...§_ My gaze turned to a nearby table.

I brushed my hand along the table's surface, and nodded in confirmation to myself.

"Candle wax." I said to myself, in English. "Bran must have either seen the candle light in the abandoned tower, or heard the noises, before taking it upon himself to investigate the place."

" _An astute observation._ " Erebus noted.

"You disagree?" I challenged, taking his statement as a challenge.

" _No."_ Erebus denied. " _It seems to be the most likely case, actually."_

Oh. Maybe I jumped the gun a bit.

 _§Why would she push him out of a window, in the first place? It's not like the King would care if he found out.§_ Balthazar argued.

And he was right; with the King constantly getting with every other whore this stronghold had— and probably everywhere else— I doubted he would care that his wife was doing the same.

 _§Unless she was doing it with someone that made the whole thing a little more... controversial.§_ I argued back. _§But who?§_

Balthazar was quiet for a moment.

 _§In the weeks that I've been here, you know I've been reading up on the many texts you have acquired.§_ Balthazar began slowly. _§I've learned a lot about Westerosi culture, which is a mix of Andal, Rhoyne, and First Men. And, from my readings, I've deduced there are three things that cause the person doing them to be reviled.§_

 _§The first is the violation of guest right.§_ Balthazar listed. _§Guest right is an ancient and sacred tradition in Westeros. When a guest, whether he is common or noble, eats the food and drinks the drink off a host's table beneath the host's roof, the guest right is invoked._

 _§Once invoked, neither the guest can harm the host, or the host harm the guest for the duration of the guest's stay. Violating this, of course, is sacrilege, and vilified in all of the main religions on Westeros.§_

 _§The second is kin slaying, the act of killing a family member. That one is more self explanatory, really. If you kill your own family, why would anyone else trust you? It's said to be an act that has you cursed forever in the sight of gods and men.§_ Balthazar continued.

 _§I don't see what that has to do with—§_ I started but was cut off by Balthazar.

 _§I'm getting to it, you idiot.§_ Balthazar insulted me, before listing the third item on his list. _§The third is incest.§_

That's when it clicked.

 _§Unlike in our world, incest is the act of having sex with_ direct _family members.§_ Balthazar explained. _§Meaning your first cousins are fair game. Still, any children born from it are considered abominations, and the two who committed the acts are reviled everywhere they go.§_

 _§What are you saying, she fucked her brother?§_ I hissed.

 _§Or her son.§_ Balthazar added.

"Maybe, but I doubt that. We're possibly looking at this situation wrong." I denied, switching to English. "She's definitely having sex with someone, and it _could_ be one of her family members. But this might be bigger than that. She's the Queen, meaning whatever she manages to fart out of her vagina becomes the leader of this entire continent of peasants and lords."

 _§All the more reason to hide an incestuous relationship with her brother by throwing the boy, Bran, out of the window.§_ Balthazar insisted stubbornly.

 _§It can't be Jaime.§_ I denied with a scoff. _§His brother Tyrion invited the both of us to have a drinking contest last night. You were there... Is your mind that addled, already, Balthazar? The Kingslayer had to be hauled off to a nearby room. I doubt anyone could wake up from a alcohol induced coma, walk all the way up to that tower just for some nightly fun. The hangover wouldn't permit it.§_

 _§So, she did it with someone else?§_ Balthazar questioned.

I nodded. _§Probably, I don't know if we can figure out who it is, but I should definitely bring this to Lord— Ned. He deserves to know why his son suffered that needless pain._ _§_

With that said, I made to leave the tower.

I left the room just as I had found it, before making my way back to Bran's room, both to check up on the boy, and to speak with his parents. I noticed the Kingsguard standing outside, and so, was immediately on guard.

It looked like they were barring entry. A few muttered spells had them release the contents of their stomachs abruptly, the foul liquid/solid mix spreading all over their armor and white cloak, staining them both.

"What's the meaning of this?" I heard a shout before the Cunt Queen Cersei, herself, stepped out of the room and grimaced at what had occurred.

She leveled her gaze at me.

"Explain. Now." She demanded of me, sending me a baleful glare.

I guessed she was still pissed I royally humiliated her brother Jaime.

Heh.

"They just bent over and lost their lunches, I guess." I said, checking over one of them. "You two hit the drink this early in the day?"

It was a subtle suggestion, and Cersei seemed to eat it up, promising punishment to the two fools besmirching the honor of the Kingsguard by drinking alcohol while on duty. She stormed off, the two Kingsguard staggering behind her, disoriented and still dizzy from the after effects of the spell I hit them with.

It was one I learned from Sirius. He used it back in his school days to make Snape's life hell— at least until Snape created his own counter-curse for it, something which Sirius grudgingly respected, even back then.

The spell simply caused a feeling of disorientation to quickly overtake a person, which in turn forces them to expel whatever is in their stomachs.

Quite the devious spell, if I do say so, myself.

I waited a few moments, before Vanishing the vomit with a wave of my wand, and entering the room. Lady Catelyn, along with Lord Ned were still seated next to their brother, along with Bran's direwolf, who turned his head, acknowledging my presence with a low whine from under Bran's bed.

I calmly closed the door, and greeted the two.

"Harry." Eddard said with a small smile. "Come to check on Bran?"

"Yes, Lord and Lady Stark." I confirmed, and added. "And, there's something else, too."

I closed the windows as Lord Stark spoke.

"Something else?" He said curiously.

"I'll tell you after I check up on him; see if his system has truly recovered. Enough time has passed that I'm confident I'll get a definitive reading." I promised, before waving my wand over Bran's body.

A few moments of information absorption later, and I nodded in satisfaction.

"Perfectly fine. Even more than fine." I noted. Perhaps my Lightning had the same effect on him that it did on me— namely, it fixed most of the flaws it had detected in my system, which included my eyesight, among other things.

Well, all the better for him, really.

"All that's left, is for him to wake up." I said, noticing something odd about his eyes. "Lord Stark?"

"Yes, Harry?" The man said.

"How long have his eyes been moving like that?" I asked curiously.

"I— I believe the moment since he came here." Ned replied, a bit uneasily. "I hadn't noticed."

Vivid dreams for hours? That certainly wasn't normal.

I placed my hand on his head, and linked my energy with his own once more— images of a three eyed raven flying around in an empty Winterfell. An image of a huge heart tree surrounded by heavy snow, and legions of undead with their bright, blue eyes.

They searched for me. Said eyes focused on me. I felt my heartbeat speed up. They saw me and narrowed dangerously.

 **DEATH.**

I cut off the link and staggered back in complete shock, eyes wide and frantic as I looked around.

Such power... That single word had all but slammed into my being with the force of a freight train; I could still feel the aftershock even as I took a deep breath and clenched my trembling hands to make it stop.

"Harry?!" Lord Stark got to his feet. "Are you all right?"

The boy, Bran. He had some kind of magical power within him. A form of divination? Whatever that was he saw, it was beyond the Wall. And those eyes, again...

They saw me, just through my link with Bran. How? Was it even possible? What were the limits to their power—

"Father?" I spun to see Bran, wide awake and looking a bit disoriented.

Before any more of us could speak, the Lady Catelyn let out a loud cry of joy and all but jumped on her son. Ned soon followed, what had just happened completely forgotten in favor of tending to his son.

Bran's eyes focused, and he looked right at me for a few moments, engulfed by his parents, before nodding ever so slightly, as if to tell me that we would talk later.

I nodded in assent. No sense in springing this on the parents.

At least, not yet. It would need to be done in different circumstances. Right now, they would most likely be figuring out a way to deal with the current situation. Namely, how to punish whoever had thrown him off the tower.

"—to thank you, Harry?" I was drawn back to reality.

Lord Stark was talking to me.

"I'm sorry." I apologized, feeling a little stupid for not paying attention to the man's words. "I'm still somewhat disoriented from that. What did you say?"

"I said." Ned spoke again, giving an understanding look. "How can we thank you?"

"No need." I replied, before turning to Bran. "Can you move your legs, then?"

He answered by lifting both his feet, moving them around wildly.

"Good." I said as his parents sighed in relief.

Then, I sprung the question. "Do you know who pushed you off of that tower, Bran?"

"Pushed? What do you—" Ned repeated, a hint of alarm in his voice as his eyes went wide. "You mean to say he was pushed?"

"Who could—" Catelyn stopped herself.

I nodded. "Robb and the others had told me that Bran has always been sure-footed— and, they're right. I've seen him climb those same towers with ridiculous ease. So, I investigated the spot he was found and searched the tower he fell from. In it, I found traces of wax on a table, and a few long, blonde hairs."

I left that statement to hang in the air.

"The Queen?" Lady Catelyn said, looking a little ill as she shared a look with her husband. "She was just here."

"I know." I said calmly. "That's why I made her Kingsguard vomit outside."

"That's what the commotion was about?" Lord Stark looked almost amused as Bran suffered the not so gentle affections of his direwolf.

"Yes." I said. "I don't know who was in that room with her, but there's at least enough evidence that proves she was there."

"But, that is not enough to prove she pushed Bran off of the tower." Ned argued logically, loathe as he was to say it.

"I know." I looked at Bran, who was trying to avoid our gaze.

"Bran?" Catelyn coaxed, hugging him tighter to herself.

"It's all right, my son." Ned said. "No one will hurt you here."

"I'll make sure of it." I said, pulling my sleeve back to show my scaled arm. "Anyone coming for you will have to go through me."

A moment passed.

"Were you pushed?" Ned asked gently.

A nod.

"What happened?" Ned continued.

Bran clutched at his mother tighter, and sunk deeper into his covers.

He was afraid.

And, why wouldn't he be?

A few more minutes of soothing and coaxing, and Bran told the tale. Apparently, he had found the Queen and the King's Squire, Lancel Lannister, having sex— though he didn't understand what he saw, believing Lancel was hurting the Queen somehow.

Then, he shakily described how the Queen ordered Lancel to push him out of the window, not seeing how his parents' faces darkened considerably, Catelyn holding her boy even tighter at the admission.

"And, she was just here..." Lord Stark was trembling in rage as he levelled his gaze to me. "With her insincere platitudes and her arrogant air!"

Ned stood up abruptly.

"This will not go unanswered." He moved to the door.

"Ned!" Catelyn pleaded, and he stopped to listen. "We cannot! It's Bran's word against the Queen's.."

"No." Ned said before turning once more to leave. "It matters not whose word it is. The Queen must answer for her crime."

"Lord Stark's right." I said in agreement, joining him. "This is a deliberate attack on your family. To simply answer it with inaction invites them to attack you once more— maybe next time, someone will actually die. Best nip this issue in the bud before it ever arises, especially with Lord Stark moving to their territory in King's Landing, outnumbered and surrounded by Lannister men."

Eddard nodded in agreement.

"Well spoken." He said, relaxing slightly at my words. He took a deep breath to center himself. "The time to act is now, in my place of power. Harry—"

"I think I'll stay here, Lord Stark." I cut him off. "In case the Queen Cersei sends someone to, um... 'take care' of witnesses."

"She wouldn't dare." He shot back, almost snarling and losing his cool once more.

"She dared to throw him out of a window." I argued logically, uncompromisingly. "What's to stop her from hiring an assassin to finish the job before Bran can give witness account? Granted, the chances are low, but there's got to be someone here."

"I will have a force of guards here." Lord Stark said after a few moments. "Jon will be among them, I've seen you two practice, so he and the guard will be capable of handling anything that shows its face in my halls."

Lady Catelyn was about to say something, but quieted at the look of her husband. She glared instead.

I rolled my eyes at her attitude towards Jon— he'd never done her any wrong and she seemed to heap all of her hate on him, and for what? Cause of his father's mistake?

Meh.

"All right, Lord Stark." I said, before smiling at Bran. "It's good to know you're awake, Bran. We'll talk later."

He smiled weakly back; this back and forth between all of us must have bewildered the kid. Who could blame him? He was, what, seven years old? When I was seven, the most excitement I got was being let out of the house once every blue moon when I wasn't going to school, while Bran, here, was getting magical visions after almost being killed by the Queen.

I followed Lord Stark through the stronghold until he reached Ser Rodrik, the master-at-arms of Winterfell, standing in the Courtyard watching Jon go through some sword forms.

"My Lord." Ser Rodrik greeted with a short bow.

"Father." Jon stopped his practice to say hello.

"Send a force of guards to Bran's chambers, along with Jon. Have him stand guard inside." Ned ordered immediately. "Then, gather the rest of the men."

Jon looked at his father, then at me, before understanding dawned on him. He must have thought I found something out— which I did.

"My Lord?" Rodrik asked in confusion, looking at our grim faces. "What has happened?"

Lord Stark leaned forward and whispered a few words to the man. His face shifted from happiness, to shock, then finally, anger and grim determination.

"I will gather them, at once." He said seriously and moved like a possessed man, leaving the both of us alone in the Courtyard. Jon followed him immediately.

"Now, what?" I asked after a few seconds. "We just confront the King?"

"Indeed." Lord Eddard confirmed. "Robert surely will not attack us, but there are many Lannister men among his own."

I nodded. "Can't be too careful. That why you asked me to come with you Lord Ned?"

"Yes." Eddard said, the side of his mouth quirking slightly at the way he was addressed. "You've shown that you are far, far stronger than one of their most prized fighters."

I nodded, trying not to let the praise get to me as Lord Stark's men began to muster. A few questions later, and we learned that the King was enjoying a meal at the Great Hall. We waited a few more minutes until enough men had gathered, before Lord Stark went to action.

He gave orders left and right, sending guards to the rest of his children, to man the defenses of the stronghold as well as stand guard anywhere of importance. He ordered the city on lock down, and then, led over fifty men to the Great Hall.

The King's men outside of the hall numbered a paltry five. Security must have grown lax, as they were in friendly territory.

Their own mistake, I figured as I stepped forward.

"I'll take care of them." I said and added as Lord Stark opened his mouth. "Without killing them, of course."

A close of the mouth, and a nod was my answer from the Lord of Winterfell.

It wasn't even a fight. I rushed the guards and chopped one in the back of the neck, injecting some of my Lightning into his body. He twitched and fell bodily to the floor, a boneless heap. The one next to him, to my left, frantically tried to pull his sword out. He didn't see the palm strike that smashed against his chin and knocked him out cold.

I turned to the other three guards, their swords already drawn and waiting for me to make a move.

I grinned toothily, Lightning answering my call, energizing my body beyond its limitations, before punching the right side one in the face, sending him reeling. The one in the middle shouted as he swung his great sword downward in an attempt to cleave me in two.

"Too slow..." I taunted and sidestepped the clumsy swing, the man's sword slamming into the cobblestone, before uppercutting him with my elbow. His fellow guardsman watched as he fell to the floor, weakly moving to get up, before losing the battle for consciousness, his disorientation too much.

I turned to the last standing guard.

"You want to join them?" I asked simply. "Or do you want to stand aside?"

"I would give my life for the K—" That was as far as he got before I smashed my fist into his chin, as well, sending him to join his buddies in the realm of unconsciousness.

Silence greeted me as I turned to Lord Stark and his men.

"Did you see that?" One whispered.

"He took on those men... unarmed!" Another said.

"He did not even look like he broke a sweat!" A third added.

"No wonder he beat the Kingslayer, so easily. With speed like that..."

Lord Stark got over his own personal shock, before barking out more orders, tearing through the excited muttering with his cold voice.

"Guard this place." Eddard said simply. "I wish to have words with our King."

"As you command, Lord Stark." The captain of the guards, a man by the name of Jory, said, before barking out orders of his own to the men. They spread out.

"Harry." Ned said simply, before entering the Great Hall. I followed him inside.

There weren't many people there.

Among them, I saw Jaime and Tyrion sitting at a table, exchanging quiet conversation. The King was at another table, eating like the fat whale he had become, while another Kingsguard stood behind him— I hadn't seen this one, before.

He was old— much older than I'd thought a Kingsguard would be. Standing over his King in his white enameled armor, wearing that white cloak, with white hair and blue eyes, he looked tall and strong, despite his age.

 _§Barristan Selmy.§_ Balthazar supplied to my thoughts. _§Said to be even more skilled than the Kingsguard, Jaime.§_

When the hell did Balthazar get the time to know this kind of information?

Aside from that, there were a few guards, here and there, half-heartedly standing guard as they watched the rest of the people eat their meals in peace.

"Ned!" Fat King Robert finally noticed our approach as he drank from a goblet, some of the wine escaping and getting all over his beard. "Come, sit down!"

"I cannot, Your Grace." Ned said stiffly as we stood in front of the table.

"You shouldn't be so damn formal, all the time." King Robert chided playfully, not noticing the sudden shift in the mood.

"I'm afraid there is a matter of grave importance, Your Grace." Ned looked like he was visibly restraining himself from smacking his friend in the face.

"What is it, then?" He looked irritated at the interruption of his meal, leveling an annoyed glare at Eddard, who stared back icily.

"Well?" The King said after a few seconds. "Out with it!"

So Ned told him of how Bran's woken up saying that Cersei had him thrown off of the tower by ordering his squire Lancel Lannister— who'd been caught fucking her— to push the poor boy.

The King didn't answer, merely giving everyone an unreadable look.

"Preposterous." Jaime said immediately, standing up at the accusation.

"It's all true." I said, getting everyone's attention. "I went to the room, in question. I found many long, golden hairs on a spot on the floor that had been cleaned of dirt while the rest of the room was kept filthy. On the table, I found residual wax from a candle. On the floor, there were stains of a questionable nature, and the smell... Well... A room in an abandoned tower can be used for many things, including acts of a more... Intimate nature."

There was silence for a few seconds.

"It could have been anyone!" Jaime argued, a strange look on his face. Sure, it seemed protective, but also... Betrayed?

I ignored the sick feeling welling up in my stomach, and continued to speak.

"Who among the many here, Lord Tyrion." I addressed the diminutive man, who hadn't said a word yet. "Has long locks of golden hair?"

Tyrion stayed quiet for a long moment, looking conflicted.

"Well?" I pushed the issue, waving my wand surreptitiously while everyone's gaze focused on the half-man.

"My sister." The words came out of the dwarf's mouth.

Huh. I'd thought a man of his willpower would resist the compulsion.

" _Perhaps he did not wish to resist."_ Erebus whispered to me quietly. " _Everyone seemed to hold him in very low regard despite his noble birth."_

It made sense, I thought as I saw Jaime look at his brother in resignation, and a bit of anger.

King Robert hadn't said a single word, so far.

"Your Grace." Ned urged against. "There must be a trial. Here, and now. I accuse the Queen Cersei Lannister and your squire Lancel Lannister of willfully conspiring to murdering my son, Brandon Stark."

"Ned—" The King started, looking weary.

"No. My son was almost killed!" Ned almost roared, before visibly restraining himself once more. "Justice must be served. It _will_ be served."

The tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

 _§Harry, is this what they call a Mexican standoff in Western movies?§_ Balthazar thought to me.

 _§Shut up, Balthazar.§_

" _What is a Mexican?"_ Erebus asked curiously.

I stifled a groan.

Maybe it would have been better if I were stranded here, alone.


	10. Trial

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 10: Trial**

Have you ever had a stare down with anybody? They usually don't last very long; I know you've read many a tale when men stare each other down for minutes on end— if not hours— assessing each other so minutely and so thoroughly that you'd think they were hawks.

Well, I, your personal hero, am here to tell you that that's a complete load of shit you've been happily gobbling up!

Whoever wrote those stories and told those tales deserved to be smacked in the face before being thrown off a cliff, set on fire and, finally, being pissed on for good measure.

In truth, the tension lasted all of ten seconds, before the King deflated.

"Are you absolutely sure of this?" Robert said in a placating tone to his long time friend. "This is a grievous accusation, Ned. If you're wrong..."

"Absolutely." Lord Ned nodded emphatically. "There is no reason for my son to lie about this. This, I swear."

"Aye, you might be right..." The King pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is the boy...? Will he be...?"

"He will make a full recovery, thank the Gods." Lord Stark and answered, and this time, the two shared a genuine smile.

The tension lifted off of most of us, except the Lannister men who remained in the room.

"Kingslayer!" Robert barked, looking sharply at the man in question. "Go on and find that wife of mine. Have her brought here for trial, and that damn squire, too. Ser Barristan, go with him and make sure they don't run off into the night to their Lord Tywin in Casterly Rock."

Jaime bristled as Ser Barristan gave me a curious look and bowed to Robert. "As you command, Your Grace."

He turned to Jaime and spoke awkwardly. "Ser Jaime..."

"Yes. Let us be off, then." Jaime sighed, bid his brother goodbye and moved out of his chair, before leaving the hall, looking angry and perturbed.

I didn't blame him in the slightest.

If anyone had told me my sister had tried to kill somebody, I supposed I would have acted in the same way— that's, if I had a sister in the first place.

The King continued giving orders to have the Great Hall made into a makeshift trial room. The large chamber exploded in a flurry as tables, chairs and the like were moved to a semblance of a trial room.

It took a while, but eventually, Ser Barristan returned to the side of the King, while Jaime entered the Great Hall with his sister Cersei and their cousin Lancel, as well as the Royal children, who looked a mix of afraid and angry.

"Father?" Prince Joffrey spoke as he entered. He looked angry and displeased. "What is the meaning of this?"

He was about to say more but was quelled by his father's harsh glare.

"Quiet down and go sit off to the side, boy." King Robert rumbled like the storms his lands are known for. "There is a trial to be had."

The boy did just that, albeit glaring petulantly the whole time. His siblings followed meekly, looking afraid for their mother. Looking at them once more reminded me of what Balthazar kept insisting. What if they weren't the fat King's children?

My gaze strayed to Jaime, who looked reasonably perturbed and worried— but what if it was worry over the line of succession and his own role in it?

Honestly, I wouldn't have even cared about any of that garbage if Bran hadn't been thrown out of the tower like that. I happened to like the kid, somewhat. We weren't exactly best friends in any way, but he was a happy boy who liked running around and climbing things.

He had a very inquisitive mind, as well. Maester Luwin always spoke fondly of him, I learned from our long conversations and debates over the past few weeks.

The fact that the Queen would be willing to hurt someone like that disgusted me. It seemed that, no matter how many times I tried to avoid it, I always found myself standing against those who would do wrong unto others.

I shivered; thinking about Bran's wounds again— the severity of them.

If I wasn't there to heal his nerve damage, he would have been paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his days. In a society like this, he'd have been considered a joke by all of his peers. If not laughed at, he would have been pitied otherwise.

The best example of this was the dwarf Lannister, Tyrion. I noticed all of the dirty looks he kept getting, and for what? Because he was born with a height deficiency?

The man was charming, if a little crass, vulgar, and an accomplished hedonist— but could anyone blame him for trying to get away from all of the snide remarks he must often get by doing such acts?

I watched as Cersei and her cousin Lancel were led to two chairs to the right side of the high table, and made to sit in it. Her face was impassive, her eyes haughty and cold, just as they always are, while Lancel looked around frantically, like a cornered mouse.

" _I can sense their fear._ " Erebus almost purred in my thoughts. _"The Queen is akin to a deer face to face against a pack of ravenous wolves."_

Or a lioness against direwolves. The symbolism was quite interesting, come to think of it.

"I will be the judge in this matter." Robert said, taking a seat at the high table, before eying Ned, as if expecting him to protest. "The _only_ judge."

"So long as you consider the evidence fairly, Your Grace." Eddard didn't dispute his claim. "I know you will be just and thorough."

That seemed to appease the man, as he ordered the people who had gathered after Queen Cersei's entrance to sit down. All complied.

All was quiet as the King muttered a few words under his breath— probably curse words showcasing his annoyed reluctance with this whole thing— before he began the impromptu trial.

"I, King Robert of House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby call this court in session."

"Cersei, of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister." Robert said. "Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Lancel, of the House Lannister, squire to the King. You stand accused by the Lord Paramount of the North, Eddard Stark, of conspiring to murder his son, Brandon Stark, by throwing him out of a window high up an abandoned tower."

A series of gasps and exclamations were heard, but the people were quieted down immediately by the glare from their King. I looked at Lancel, for a moment. The boy was damn near shitting his pants, a stark contrast to the Queen, who looked as impassive as ever.

I felt a little bad for the guy; he was probably around my age, possibly older than I was by a small bit. Still, he brought this on himself.

"Did you attempt to kill Brandon Stark?" King Robert asked.

"No." Cersei said calmly, while Lancel had said it shakily.

I saw Lord Stark bristle in anger at their denial and almost smirked. A father out for blood was something to be feared. I knew he would do his best to see that Cersei got what she deserved. She had been the reason his son had been in such pain.

Robert merely nodded, before speaking once more. "The Crown calls its first witness: Harry of House Potter."

Heads turned to me as I made my way to the chair on the left side of the high table. The whispers quieted down as I took my seat.

"You are Harry, of House Potter. Correct?" Robert asked as a scribe wrote down the words. The King might be a whoring fat piece of shit, but at least he observed the laws properly. It was good to have records of things, just in case someone would doubt the true nature of these proceedings.

It was true that these records could be altered, later on, but it's the thought that counts. Plus, with so many witnesses here, it would be hard to match the fake written accounts to what had actually occurred— if someone tried to alter them, in the first place.

"Yes." I answered.

"Describe the manner in which you learned of these events." Robert ordered.

I complied.

"I will admit that I have not known Bran for long." I said with a nod. "But, over the past few weeks, I have watched him climb those towers, with an ease that would make most men green with envy."

"He was sure-footed." I said strongly with as much certainty as I could muster. "And had been scaling those towers for a very long time, according to the many people who reside at Winterfell." I nodded at the people in question.

"So, the fact that he fell at all was strange to me." I said, deciding to leave Robb and the others out of it. "The fact that this happened in the night time, even more so. Why would a small child be climbing an old, abandoned tower in the middle of the night?"

"While it occurred to me that he simply might have been seeking adventure, I believed it merited at least a quick look around. If no foul play had occurred, then so be it." I allowed. "I went in the abandoned tower, myself, and went up the stairs in search of anything that could reveal anything on the matter."

"I ended up in a room which looked to have been used recently." I said, continuing to weave the tale. "There was a small area that was bereft of any dust, while the rest of the room was quite filthy. This meant that someone had been there very recently. On a nearby table, I could feel dried up candlewax, the remnant of a lit candle. And..." I stopped for a moment, not sure how to broach the subject.

Or, at least, I pretended I wasn't sure, to gain the maximum effect on what I was about to reveal. That farce of a trial before my Fifth Year at Hogwarts had made this kind of thing easy for me.

Playing to the crowd; that is.

"Go on, then." King Robert broke decorum. "Speak."

"There was a smell, Your Grace." I said. "The room reeked of actions of an... intimate nature."

"Lies!" Lancel finally shouted as the Great Hall erupted in whispers.

"Silence!" King Robert stood and thundered. "You will only speak when allowed to!"

He stared down the boy, who wilted under his gaze, before nodding in satisfaction and sitting back down on his chair, before nodding to me. "Continue."

"The smell was that of sex, Your Grace." I restated loudly. "And, if that didn't convince me, I saw the remnants of his seed, on the stone floor."

More whispers.

"And how exactly would you know what that is, Harry of House Potter?" The King challenged over the sounds of the others.

"I'm a man grown, Your Grace." I said simply, mouth quirking slightly. "And I've been with my fair share of women—"

"Fair enough, you do not need to continue your explanation." Robert said, not acknowledging my joking manner. "But, that does not place them on the scene of the alleged crime. How is it that you're sure that the Queen and my squire have done this horrible deed?"

"I found long, golden locks of hair on the floor, Your Grace." I said strongly. "The only woman with hair that long is the Queen. Later, Bran, himself, named the Queen Cersei and Lancel Lannister as the ones who pushed him."

At the mention of the boy, Robert's face took on a grimace. He looked at his wife with a strange expression. I much doubted that he cared about her frolicking around with other men, but he definitely had a problem with her trying to kill his best friend's son.

"Very well, then." Robert said gravely, doing a good show of hiding the anger on his face. "Your words have been noted and will be taken into consideration, Harry of House Potter. You may resume your former seat in these proceedings."

"Thank you, Your Grace." I said formally before doing just that.

"The Crown calls for Lord Stark, as his son Brandon Stark is injured and still in recovery." Robert said, the scratches of the scribe furious and quick.

Eddard stood up, straight-backed and proud, and moved to the witness seat.

"You are Lord Eddard Stark, correct?" The King asked unnecessarily.

"I am." Ned confirmed unnecessarily.

"Your son Brandon has awoken?" Robert asked.

"Indeed." Ned answered gravely, though with some happiness. "And he has had much to say."

A long, heavy moment passed. "Proceed, then."

"My son had been injured. My Lady wife has been by his side, beside herself with worry." Ned spoke gravely and with a hint of sorrow. "The Maester Luwin had said that he might not live through the day, but Brandon fought long and hard, clinging to his very life and won. When he woke, he told me what had happened to put him in that position."

"He was climbing, as he always did, and happened upon a sight which he did not understand. He was afraid to even speak of it, but I assured him that no harm would come to him." Eddard spoke, before shaking his head in disgust at the woman who caused the boy's suffering. "Bran did not understand what he saw. He reached the window and saw the Queen Cersei Baratheon, on her back, while the squire Lancel Lannister was on top of her. They were engaged in intimate relations."

There were gasps of shock again. I guessed that, if the honorable Lord Stark was saying it, it was as good as the truth.

"Bran did not understand this. He believed the squire was hurting the Queen— the Queen who then ordered her squire to push him out of the window, to an almost certain doom." Ned finished heavily, glaring at Cersei at the end. She was still as impassive as ever, it seemed.

The King's squire, Lancel, on the other hand, was shaking like a leaf in a storm, and with good reason; things were not looking well for the unfortunate boy.

The whispered strengthened once again before Robert banged his hand against the table.

"Do you have anything more to add, Lord Stark?" Robert asked.

It was strange to see, really. You would think the King would fight for his Queen's innocence, but he was just letting this entire trial go off without a hitch.

" _Maybe he is eager to get rid of her."_ Erebus suggested logically.

 _§She does seem like a bit of a cunt.§_ Balthazar added.

I could only nod in agreement.

"No, Your Grace. I only hope that my son will receive the justice he so deserves." Ned said. Many of the assembled crowd nodded, with the exception of the Lannister men. It made sense; if they agreed, it would be considered a betrayal to their House.

Oathbreakers were executed in these lands.

"Then, you may resume your former seat." Robert said, and the Lord Paramount of the North complied.

A moment of silence passed through everyone, before the King turned back to his squire and wife, an unreadable look in his eyes.

"I'll ask you again." Robert said. "Do you deny your actions against Brandon Stark, or do you wish to confess your crimes?"

"I— I—" Lancel stammered, eyes wide with fear as he looked around frantically.

"I see that we will receive no justice here." Queen Cersei harshly cut the boy off before he could sentence them both to death. "I demand a trial by combat."

One. Two. Thre— and then there was an uproar, people chattering, whispering, shouting and making exclamations of outrage and disbelief.

And, why wouldn't they, after a tale like that?

"You realize that the proof presented is undeniable, do you not?" King Robert spoke, almost softly, at that. "The account of Lord Stark's boy, who almost died from the damage of this fall, tells all that needs to be said."

"I am the Queen!" She continued. "It is my right to request it!"

"This is true. You have the right." Robert conceded, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Very well then. I, King Robert, First of His Name, sentence you, Queen Cersei of Houses Baratheon and Lannister, to trial by combat."

He turned his gaze to Lancel.

"And you, boy?" Robert thundered. "You wish for a trial by combat of your own?"

Lancel whimpered for a few more moments before visibly composing himself.

"No, Your Grace." He said shakily. "I wish to confess."

People chattered excitedly before quieting down when the King nodded for him to do so.

"The tale which Lord Stark spoke of is true." Lancel said shakily but his voice strengthened with every word. "All of it. The Queen Cersei and I were... were... engaging in intimate relations, and the boy Bran caught us. The Queen ordered me to push him out of the window or there would be consequences." He got off his chair and bowed low to the ground.

"I only did as the Queen ordered, Your Grace! I am sorry! Mercy!" He kept apologizing over and over.

Robert nodded. "That's enough, boy. We'll deal with you, later. Take him away." He looked at Cersei, once more, who glared daggers at Lancel now, who was being dragged away to Winterfell's dungeons, presumably.

"Queen Cersei, you shall have a trial by combat." Robert got her attention. "Who do you wish to choose, as champion?"

Cersei smiled as she looked right at me.

"Ser Gregor Clegane." She announced, before adding. "Your Grace."

There was uproar at her statement.

Gregor Clegane, the name sounded familiar; I just couldn't put my finger on it, though. Who the hell was Gregor Clegane?

I noticed the guy who was wearing that ridiculous dog themed helmet bristle in anger— oh hey, he had some horrible burn scars on the side of his face. Damn, what had caused that? He looked downright _ugly_ with those.

It would take someone with no morals to do something like that to another human being—

Then it hit me. Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides, the fucker who killed the Targaryen children before raping their mother, the children's blood still on his hands, before cleaving her in two. I had read it in the first few days of my arrival on this world. The man with the burned face had his sigil, as well. This must be The Hound, Gregor's brother.

"Ser Gregor must be in the Westerlands, at the moment." Eddard objected. "It would take weeks for him to get here."

"Then send a raven for him." Cersei shot smoothly back. "I do not mind the wait."

"But I do." Robert cut her off after I gave him a slight compulsion. "Choose someone from here. Plenty of warriors on the Mountain's level."

The Queen looked angry at her husband's exclamation, before staring at the available men. Her eyes landed on her brother, who gave her a nod to say he was willing to do this for her.

"I choose..." Queen Cersei said slowly. "Ser Barristan Selmy to represent me in this trial."

For the hundredth time this hour, there was yet another uproar.

"And you, Lord Stark? Who is your chosen champion?" Robert asked, before quirking his lip in amusement. "Or, do you wish to do battle, yourself?"

Ah... So that's what the Queen was banking on. She must have heard all of the tales about Ned Stark the honorable, with all the tales of the North— "The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword." I heard him say to Bran once after they had come back from executing a deserter from the Night's Watch.

She expected him to fight Selmy, himself.

"No, Your Grace." Ned denied, shocking her. "I choose Harry, of House Potter. He has proven to be a strong fighter, with no equal. The Old Gods and the New will favor him. Of this, I am sure."

Too bad he wasn't the one passing the sentence, but the King. Plus, there was the fact that I beat the Kingslayer in combat, as well as those five guards outside. Not to mention the fact that I'm the one who did the investigation and healed his boy.

It seemed fair that I would be the one to end this farce.

It showed a degree of intellect, as well. He wasn't stupidly honorable— Ned knew that a fight against the likes of Ser Barristan Selmy might possibly end up with him losing his life, and thus making Cersei innocent in the eyes of the Gods.

"And do these champions accept their appointment?" Robert looked to us both as we made our way to stand before him.

"I do, Your Grace." Barristan and I said almost at the same time.

"Very well, then." King Robert said, standing up and ordering the servants around. "We will adjourn in the Courtyard, outside. Bring the necessary chairs and tables."

As the people around us exploded into motion, Ser Barristan and I shared glances.

"Why did you accept?" I asked.

"It is my duty to defend the Royal Family." Barristan said simply.

"Even if she tried to kill a small child?" I shot back, a hint of incredulity in my tone.

A short silence.

"I am bound by oath to serve my King and Queen." Barristan said heavily. "I cannot forsake my duty, even when things become difficult; I serve the Royal Family regardless."

I shook my head, feeling my respect for the knight increasing.

"I don't want to kill you." I admitted freely. "I've read and heard nothing but praise when people speak of you. Barristan the Bold, they call you."

"Quite confident, are you not?" Ser Barristan said. "Do you fear I present no challenge to you due to my age?"

"Oh, not at all— though you _are_ quite old." I said with a smile, which vanished quickly enough. "I'm saying I'm a better fighter than you, and I don't want you throwing your life away for someone who does not deserve your service, someone willing to murder children for her own gain."

Barristan opened his mouth to reply, but we were interrupted by the servants.

"If you could simply come this way, Sers..." One of them said.

"I am no knight." I said, before following them regardless, Barristan right behind me.

We were led to the center of the Courtyard as we watched the many servants put enough chairs for over fifty people, with the King and his family having an area of their own. The people were excited again.

They'd seen me fight against the Kingslayer; now, I would be fighting against Barristan the Bold.

A few minutes more passed as seats were adjusted to ensure the maximum range which could be allowed for this trial by combat, before King Robert stood, once more.

"In the sight of Gods and Men, we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of my Queen, Cersei of Houses Baratheon and Lannister." King Robert said. "The accused has chosen a trial by combat, so that the Gods themselves can decide."

He nodded at the both of us. We gave a short bow to the King, neither of us taking their eyes off each other.

"The rules are simple. You fight until one of you yields, or is killed." King Robert said simply. "Any questions."

"None, Your Grace." Barristan said, unsheathing his blade.

I shook my head and unsheathed my own.

I didn't want to kill the man, so I had to figure out how to make him yield; but he was a proud man, who followed his duty to the very end. Failure for him was not an option. It was either success, or death. I could simply tell by our short conversation. He was a man who lived by his words, even in hardship.

How the hell was I supposed to get him to surrender?

"Begin!"


	11. Trial By Combat

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 11: Trial By Combat  
**

"Begin!"

We stood and assessed each other the way only a warrior knows how to do.

"You don't have to do this." I said slowly, almost pleadingly. "Just give up."

Barristan bristled at these words.

"I am a knight!" He said vehemently. "To give up now would dishonor all that I stand for. No, young Harry Potter. I shall die a knight, if need be."

Ser Barristan sprang into action, crossing the distance between us in a few short instants and thrust his long sword at my heart. It was a strike which would have ended the fight quickly, and efficiently— if I were any other man.

But the Lightning had already begun coursing through my body, energizing me greatly, increasing my strength, speed and reflexes fivefold.

I watched the thrust come in slowly before parrying his blow with the flat of Erebus' blade and smashing my fist into his face, hitting him hard enough to send him reeling back.

Hopefully that display would teach him to— that was as far as my thought process went before my abdomen erupted in pain and I staggered back in unbridled surprise, clutching my wound tightly to stem off the blood flow.

Not that it did much, of course. I felt the hot, thick liquid pool on my hand splash lightly on the dirt floor beneath me, and swore under my breath.

The wound was not so deep that my entrails fell out, but deep enough that the blood was coming out at a worrying pace. I collected my power and forced it to hurt me as I cauterized the wound from the inside so no one would notice the light from my electricity.

I could have said I endured the pain with nothing but a grimace to show for it, but that would be a lie.

Have you ever tried burning yourself willingly?

I want you to stop for a moment and really think about it.

We have all had that moment when we grabbed a really hot tray without realizing it and only suffering mild burns from it because we pulled away quickly enough.

This is a bit like that— except I'm pushing my hand firmly against the hot tray and forcing it to remain there for far longer than a split second. I almost screamed and thrashed as I bowled over in pain, every muscle in my body clenched hard as the wound cauterized itself from the inside, stopping the blood from flowing out.

It was a quick fix, and I would certainly have to look it over with much better care, later.

I breathed hard and shakily, watching Ser Barristan get back up, a little dazed from my blow, and the rest of the crowd roaring in appreciation of the short, but devastating bout.

"How..." I ground out as I slowly removed my hand from the wound, wiping it against my pants to get the blood off.

" _When you sent him down."_ Erebus thought to me. " _He took a swipe at your abdomen as he fell. It was not a calculated move, or you would likely have died."_

So, what... A feint followed by a hastily conceived counter? If it were anyone other than me, I would have died from the blood loss. The man looked at me, a strange gleam in his eyes, as well as some respect in the fact that I had survived it.

I had underestimated the old man.

I made the most basic mistake of all.

I assumed the people here weren't good at fighting. I'd thought they were all simpletons from a bygone age with no idea of how to even swing a sword properly. The only one that had come close was Jaime Lannister, but I showed everyone how weak he was.

But Barristan Selmy... He was on an entirely different level than even Jaime.

I let myself be fooled by his age and apparent easy counter— and he punished me for it.

"You still stand." The old man commented, impressed despite himself, as he circled my form, his sword held in a defensive stance.

I took a sharp breath and mirrored his movements.

"I'm not that easy to put down." I spoke, my voice wavering slightly from the pain. "My own fault anyway. I became overconfident."

I knew that deadening my nerves would not do much for the wound. I couldn't use Erebus with my left arm anymore, so I grasped the handle with my right hand and brandished the dark weapon at the old knight.

"That's the only blow you'll ever land on me." I declared with a snarl, my fingers tightening around Erebus' handle.

Selmy said nothing in return, gazing at me implacably, his blue eyes revealing nothing but his determination as he came at me once more, his sword all but dancing in a flurry of steel.

His sword sang in the air as I evaded each of his thrusts, swings, backswings, and feints, taking note of his fighting style and already deciphering his patterns of attack as I began to parry and block his strikes.

He was surprised— having most likely expected me to have lost all of my strength and speed after a wound like that.

Don't get me wrong, it hurt like hell to just move, but now the adrenaline was flowing, giving me the rush of energy I needed to ignore the pain and finish him off. Still, there was no reason to be reckless— hence me analyzing his skillset.

His right hand diagonal swing would flow into a thrust, and then a horizontal swing from left to right, before he would back up. The telltale sign of him doing this was the very slight shifting of his feet at its start.

When he feints, his feet don't move, even though he gives off the impression that he _is_ moving. His thighs and waist appear to be moving, that's how he gives off such an impression. It was a trick.

But I saw through it. I saw much more than this as I kept analyzing.

My speed and strength had been affected by the initial, surprise blow, but half of my strength is still many times faster and more powerful than he was.

Stronger than him and he almost killed you, I thought to myself as my resolve hardened and I formulated a plan of attack, channeling some power into Erebus.

A swordsman's power was his sword, obviously.

And the way to beat a swordsman— I moved forward, past his thrust and slashed at the base of his sword, Erebus cutting cleanly through the metal before I bodily tackled the man, sending him flying backwards, a heap of limbs and meat in a metal cage— is to break his sword.

He tried to move, only to find that he was incapable of getting back up. He clutched at his leg, grunting in pain as he struggled to get up in vain. He stopped struggling and moved his gaze to me, understanding what was about to happen to him as I approached him, my dark blade gleaming in the light.

I stopped a few feet from him, and looked around. Everyone around us was watching the proceedings with bated breath. The Queen looked positively murderous. The King was impassive— didn't he care about the fate of his wife?

Ned Stark also possessed a look of stone, but I knew he was most likely satisfied on the inside but probably respected the old knight too much to want him dead.

I gingerly rubbed at my stomach, the wound flaring in protest at my added pressure, making me grimace in pain.

"It was a good fight, Ser Barristan. I wished I could have fought you at your prime." I said as I took a few more steps forward, lifting my blade high into the air.

"Are you sure you do not wish to yield?" I asked one final time, voice wavering.

"I will never yield."

"Come on." I coaxed. "You've lost. Queen Cersei is proven guilty."

I ignored the woman in question's angry struggling against her guards as I spoke. "There is no reason for you to die! Not for her."

"I am old, lad..." Barristan sounded weary, and in that one moment, I could see the feeling in his eyes. Eyes haunted by long years of misery, sadness, and endless fighting. "I do not wish to perish of old age. I would die in battle if I can."

"And you still might." I said reassuringly. "But not against me."

"No."

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration, wondering how I could get him to give this battle up.

" _You could make him..."_ Erebus suggested.

Make him? I thought.

" _Use it. The spell of control. The Imperius Curse._ " Erebus continued.

My blood ran cold.

Never. _He_ used those spells. I would never fight like he does.

 _"Magic is magic, child._ " Erebus chided. " _It is the energy that surrounds us all. It can be used to kill, and it can be used to save lives."_

I remained quiet, gazing at the man, who was unyielding.

" _Your **Roar** can atomize a man without any effort."_ Erebus said. " _A sword can be used to take a life, but it can also be used to defend it, as well."_

But, to take his free will like this?

" _It's only two words."_ Erebus scoffed. " _I don't particularly care if you leave him living, or dead, but you seem to wish to keep him alive. I'm suggesting a viable option, here. As far as he'll know, he had a sudden wish to live and fight another day. It's not like you'll keep casting it on him."_

Erebus was right. Fuck me, but he was right.

I sheathed Erebus, knelt down and extended my hand to Barristan, ignoring the gasps of shock around us. Ser Barristan himself looked shocked beyond words at the gesture of kindness.

With my right hand, I grabbed hold of my wand, keeping it in my pants pocket and pointing it at him.

"Come. _Imperio."_ I almost whispered.

Kindness indeed.

What would my parents think if they saw me, now?

"Say you yield." I said in low tones. "And then grab my hand."

"I..." He seemed to be struggling against the effects of the spell, which lent credence to what he was about to say. "I yield."

And then he grabbed my hand, to the deafening cheers of the crowd around us. He shook his head as the spell wore off, and was speechless as I propped him up so he could breathe better.

"You'll be all right, Ser Barristan." I told the man as Maester Luwin came with a few men, who put him on a stretcher and carried him out. "Maester Luwin will make sure of it."

"I— I—" He seemed confused as the men took him away as the Maester who was travelling with the King's court approached to see to my own injuries.

"I'll be fine." I waved him off, already siphoning my own bodily energy to heal up the burnt inside of my wounds.

"You must rest." The Maester insisted, trying to grab my hand and lead me elsewhere.

I roughly shoved him off, and he tripped and fell on his ass.

"My apologies." I said insincerely, plastering on a fake smile. "But I'll be perfectly all right."

There were some angry mutters, but the Maester finally relented and left with an almost petulant glare sent my way.

" _I believe the Maester Luwin sent him a few smug looks when he pulled away Ser Barristan."_ Erebus noted as I watched the old Maester walk away.

One of Luwin's rivals when he was studying at the Citadel, I was guessing? I couldn't think of anything else.

Didn't know the bookworm had it in him. Heh.

Maester Luwin 1 - 0 Random Maester whose name I didn't know.

"The Gods have made their will known." King Robert cut through the cheering, and all went silent once more.

He looked at Cersei, who was now visibly struggling against the men holding her in place.

"Queen Cersei of Houses Baratheon and Lannister." King Robert spoke strongly, and with a slight weariness when he said the name Lannister. "In the sights of Gods and men, you have been found guilty of attempting to murder Brandon Stark, son of the Warden and Lord Paramount of the North, Eddard Stark, by throwing him out of a window of an abandoned tower."

"I, King Robert, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, will now declare your sentencing." He said heavily.

"Your crime is severe— violating guest right by attempting to murder our host's son. The fact that the family in question is a Great House of Westeros makes it all the worse." Robert said as Cersei paled. "But I am not without mercy. You shall not lose your life."

Before she could sigh in relief, he kept talking. "Instead, your left hand shall be taken. You are also to return to your home in Casterly Rock, in disgrace. Furthermore, I strip you of all rights as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You are no longer the Queen, this I swear it before you all!"

Wow. I had figured life in prison, but this sounded pretty bad, as well.

I chanced a glance at the woman in question, whose eyes were now wide with extreme fear.

"My King, I protest!" Ser Jaime said strongly, but was silenced by a harsh glare from his King and the sudden movement of two of his Kingsguard, Blount and Trant if I remembered correctly.

"You can protest all you like, Kingslayer." Robert retorted and nodded at his Kingsguard. They sheathed their swords. "But Cersei has sealed her fate by attempting to kill a child of the Lord Paramount of the North. She has disgraced herself, and by extension House Lannister and my own House, as well. If she were not my wife, I would have executed her this very day to avert war between the Kingdoms. This is a _mercy_."

Jaime looked like he wanted to say something, but kept his mouth shut and backed away as both of the people from the King's court and the Northerners muttered in agreement. If King Robert had tried to sweep this under the rug, there would have certainly been a war.

"Best we get the hand right now." He said, sighing with weariness. "Have the Maester ready to treat the wound."

"No, no, no..." Cersei sobbed as the men forcefully led her to a chopping block.

"Father." Joffrey finally spoke, a hint of fear in his tone, but anger as well. "I can't stand by and let my mother—"

"Let her be what, boy?" The King thundered as he rounded on him. Joffrey flinched and backed away, almost tripping on his own two feet. "Justly punished for her crimes? You believe Kings and Queens are immune to the King's Justice?"

"It's the King's Justice." Joffrey still argued. "You, father, it's you who decides on these matters! Why bend to the will of these Northerners?!"

Half the people here bristled at the implied insult and disrespect to their lands and people.

Robert moved a few steps forward and struck the blonde boy in the face with the back of his hand.

"You think a King and Queen are above justice?" Robert almost snarled as Joffrey wiped blood from his mouth. "If that were true, then I should have let King Scab's son, Rhaegar Targaryen escape with Lyanna Stark! I should have not rebelled against his tyranny when he killed Lord Eddard's elder brother Brandon and his father Lord Rickard. Foolish boy! You may go with your mother to Casterly Rock when I'm done, here!"

"What?" He said in shock. "But, I'm your Heir! My place is with you in King's Landing, father!"

"Not anymore, it's not." Robert declared in disgust, before moving to his wife, whose eyes had dimmed at that final blow against her son. She knelt on the floor, her hand held down firmly against the chopping block as another man held a long sword above her. "Your brother Tommen shall be the Heir to the Iron Throne. But that is a matter for another time."

Robert nodded at the man with the long sword as Joffrey gaped like a fish. "Do it quickly."

I watched as the man lifted his sword high in the air, before bringing down hard, cleaving cleanly through Cersei Lannister's wrist as she cried out in unbridled agony, blood coming out in spurts as her heart kept pumping it out of her body.

"Justice...!" A few people muttered as the men led her away to be treated— Ser Jaime accompanying her until they were out of sight— and the people began to scatter.

"There is still the matter of you." Robert stopped everyone from leaving as he turned to the person who had actually pushed Bran out of the tower.

Lancel Lannister had his head down, ashamed and subservient.

"Yours is the lesser crime." Robert said loudly. "Though you committed the act itself, you are but a boy following his Queen's orders. So, I give you a choice. You may join the Night's Watch, or lose your right hand and go home in disgrace. Your choice, Lancel of House Lannister."

"I will go to the Wall, Your Grace." Lancel said after a moment, sounding relieved to be getting off so lightly. "I..."

"What is it, boy?" The King asked. "Speak up."

"Your Grace." He bowed his head even lower. "May I send a letter to my family? To inform them of my fate?"

"Of course." King Robert said, nodding at two of the men. "Take him to the ravens, so he can write his letter, and then place him in a prison cell until it is time for him to go to the Wall."

"As you command, Your Grace." One said, and they led the boy out of the Courtyard when upon everyone was allowed to resume their daily activities.

Most of the guards of Winterfell went back to their barracks for some well needed rest, with some remaining at their assigned posts for the day. Blacksmiths, bakers, cooks and servants also resumed their services.

The Maester tried to get me to seek some medical attention once more, but I denied him again.

"Ser Barristan got you good, Potter." The King said, moving away from Ned Stark to address me. He gave me an unreadable look. "Quite the odd thing you did, sparing his life in a duel to the death. Some would say it is the action of man without a backbone."

He was testing me.

"There was no justice in killing Ser Barristan, Your Grace." I said reasonably. "He's a good man, an honorable man who was forced into this fight because of his vows. I don't blame him for it, not at all. I certainly wouldn't wish death on him, either."

That seemed to strike a chord with the King. Seemed I passed the test.

"Aye, lad." The King said, smiling. "I completely understand that."

"Your Grace?" I asked for him to clarify.

"Ser Barristan was Kingsguard to my predecessor, the Mad King." Robert said, getting more excited with every word he said. "We did battle at the Trident, you see. By the Gods, that was a battle. I was _strong_ , then; raining blow after blow on that vile Prince, Rhaegar, before burying my war hammer in his chest! I hit him so hard the rubies on his armor broke free, flinging them into the stream! They call it the Ruby Ford now..."

I stayed silent, listening to the older man's tale.

"I had sustained a few wounds in the battle, but there was another who required more aid than I." Robert said, giving me a meaningful look.

"Ser Barristan." I answered his unspoken question.

"Aye, lad." King Robert said approvingly. "Lord Bolton had counseled that Ser Barristan's throat be cut, but I called on my own Maester to attend to the Knight. He was an honorable man; I had known him for a long time even before I took the throne, and did not feel he deserved to be killed. After I had taken King's Landing, I accepted Ser Barristan into my own Kingsguard."

I nodded, seeing the similarities in the stories.

"I see the similarities, Your Grace." I said, grimacing slightly. "Though, may I be excused to speak to Lord Stark and then see to my injuries?"

"Ah… Of course, of course. Off you go." He said, dismissing me with a wave as he rounded on his son Joffrey. "Now... What to do with you..."

I stopped listening after Robert dragged the boy away by the ear. I spun around and walked to Lord Stark, who looked at me with a small smile on his face, though it faded quickly.

"Lord Ned." I said, giving a short bow of the head.

"Harry." Eddard said, still amused at the way I was addressing him, but also happy of the results of the trial. "I would like to thank you for your aid. You have done me— and all of House Stark— a great service."

"It's no problem. Bran is a good boy; he deserves better." I waved it off but winced as the wound flared once more. "Ser Barristan is a good fighter. If I hadn't taken the time to analyze the way he fought, he might have landed another slash like the first one and the Que— former Queen now, isn't it?— she would have left these lands unharmed."

"Aye, she would have." Ned agreed heavily but shook his head. "But you won. It's done, now. Justice has been seen to."

"Yes." I said. "Robb will be slightly upset I kept him out of my testimony."

"What do you mean?" Ned went a little rigid at my words. Likely, he thought I lied about something.

"Well, he's the one who first suggested that Bran was pushed off." I said quickly. "I thought not to mention his name in case anyone tried to play this whole story out as the Starks attempting to sow discord in the Royal Family."

The man relaxed. "I had not even considered that possibility."

"I hear the whole of King's Landing operates this way." I said lightly.

"Indeed?" Ned asked.

"The servants and guards don't speak freely in your presence, Lord Ned." I said, unnecessarily. "But I'm no one special to them, so they end up talking. I have learned much by simply listening in to their conversations."

"The Northern Houses put a lot of stock on honor and strength of character." I continued. "The rest of the continent doesn't seem to care all that much, as long as the Houses in question have money, and the like— especially in King's Landing. When they speak of the capital city, they speak of vile corruption and endless politicking among the nobles which causes the deaths of the low born and the high born alike."

"I had guessed at what could be waiting for us at King's Landing." Ned said. "But it seems there will be much work to be done on the matter."

So, he was still planning on going, even after what just happened. I shook my head; it made sense. If the Queen— former Queen now, heh— felt she could try to kill one of the Lord Paramount's children and escape with no punishment, then the situation at King's Landing would be very bad, indeed.

"I don't envy you the task." I said, feeling a little bold. "If you don't mind, Lord Ned, I'd like to retire to my chambers for some much needed rest."

"But, your injuries—" Eddard was about to say, but stopped himself when he realized who he was talking to. "Never mind; be on your way, then."

"Give my regards to Jon?" I asked hopefully. Eddard nodded in confirmation and walked away, finally leaving me alone in the Courtyard, watching as the servants took the chairs and tables back to the Great Hall.

For a few moments, I stared at Cersei Lannister's chopped off hand, which lay in a small pool of blood on the chopping block, before making my way back to my own chambers, listening to the whispers and seeing the stares of all the servants as I passed through the hallways.

I took comfort in the fact that it was over something I'd done, and not because I was the Boy-Who-Lived. This is what I had always wanted; recognition for what I had done, not for what my mother had done when I was a baby.

I sighed as I entered my chamber and took my shirt off, feeling my stomach wound flare in pain once again.

 _§That's a pretty terrible wound.§_ Balthazar hissed.

 _§It's not that bad.§_ I said lightly but made a grimace as I poked at the long cut, stretching from my waist to just underneath my ribcage. It was a miracle my entrails hadn't simply fallen out, and it was my own skill with my Lightning Dragonslayer Magic that I managed to cauterize the wound from the inside. _§Maybe it's worse than I'm making out to be.§_

 _§You almost died.§_ Balthazar said incredulously.

 _§Yes, I know it sounds bad—§_ I tried to wave it off but Balthazar was having none of it.

 _§You almost_ died. _You understand that?§_ Balthazar repeated.

 _§Pfft. I've almost died many times in the past.§_ I retorted. _§I've had basilisk venom in my blood. I was almost kissed by a Dementor. I was almost killed by Voldemort at the end of my Fourth Year. I've fought against an army of wizards at Azkaban, and I've beaten many Demons, including Erebus here, at Temen Ni Gru. I'm not bothered by death. It'll come for us all, eventually.§_

 _§What_ did _bother me, however, was that I almost died due to my own recklessness.§_ I said to appease the snake. _§I became arrogant, overconfident in my abilities, and Ser Barristan showed me the error of my ways with a single swing of his sword. It was a humbling moment. You don't need to add to it.§_

Balthazar didn't reply as I sat down on the bed and pulled a small disc shaped container, filled with as much Murtlap Essence as I could fit into it— and the disc had Dumbledore's Undetectable Extension Charm woven into it.

There was enough Essence in there to last me until my last days. I dipped my fingers in the Essence before bringing it to my side and spreading it over the harsh cut, jerking in pain and relief as the Essence began its work.

My body relaxed as I watched the Murtlap Essence do its work, my flesh knitting itself back together until there was nothing but a long scar in place of the wound, the flaring of the wound losing all of its intensity in a few instants.

How strange, the Murtlap Essence seemed to have an increased effectiveness to healing wounds. I was expecting to need at least three more applications before being fully healed.

But, it only took one.

" _There must always be balance, young Dragonslayer."_ Erebus clattered in his sheath next to me. " _While the power of destructive magic is reduced, here, it seems that restorative magic is strengthened at least threefold."_

I frowned. "But my attempt at healing Bran took a lot out of me."

" _Yes._ " Erebus confirmed thoughtfully. " _I suspect that, had we been in our home world, that spell would have had very little effect."_

"So, you're saying that even with three times the effectiveness, I still suck at restorative magic." I concluded.

" _Yes._ " Erebus confirmed.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." I said sarcastically.

" _You're welcome."_

Argh!


	12. A Chat With Bran

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 12: A Chat With Bran  
**

" _Pati_." I incanted and my shirt glowed.

 _§You've already cast it four times, before this!§_ Balthazar hissed as the glow faded. _§I'm certain it's done.§_

" _Pati._ " I went for a sixth time. The shirt glowed again.

 _§Oh for goodness sake.§_ Balthzar groaned.

" _Pati."_ I cast once more, before addressing Balthazar. "The fight against Selmy taught me something of extreme value."

 _§And what would that be?§_ Balthazar replied sarcastically.

"I need to be prepared." I said. "His sword would not have done any damage if my shirt was affected by the Unbreakable Charm."

 _§Yes, yes, I understand that. But why did you have to cast it seven times on every article of clothing you possess?§_ Balthazar asked patiently.

"...Seven is a powerful number possessing magical properties?" I said uncertainly, before shrugging. "Hermione always said so. It couldn't hurt to cast it that many times on each piece. I don't see what the huge deal is, anyway. If seven applications increase the effectiveness, then I win. If it doesn't, well at least I know it doesn't work and never have to do it again. I can't really go wrong, here."

I grabbed the shirt and tried to rip it apart with my increased strength. I conjured a lumpy mannequin, dressed it in my clothes, before conjuring a handful of sharpened stones to chuck at it.

I threw the stones with all of my strength, and they hit the mannequin, making loud thuds and smacks on impact. They embedded deep in its head, and hands— but bounced off all of the articles of clothing.

I repeated this test a few more times for good measure, before nodding in satisfaction and putting my clothes back on, feeling a chill after standing naked for too long. A wave of my wand, and the conjurations lost their cohesion, disintegrating into nothingness.

" _Tempus."_ I muttered and held my wand aloft. Brightly colored numbers and letters appeared and arranged themselves in a form I could understand.

It read:

"5:43 AM"

"Hm." I said and cancelled the spell, before taking a seat on the bed. In a few hours, we would all head out to King's Landing, via the Kingsroad, a path which stretched from the Wall to Dorne. I stretched and languished for a while, before getting back up, strapping Erebus to my side and walking out.

I made my way to the stables. Already the sound of metal striking metal was heard as the blacksmith began his work for the day. Servants hurried from building to building, off to clean and cook and whatever else they tended to do.

A loud snort caught my attention— Geryon noticed my presence. I smiled and greeted the horse, who seemed to be munching on a mouthful of hay.

"We're finally going to be leaving here, Geryon." I said, patting his head lightly. "In a few hours, we'll be taking the Kingsroad to King's Landing."

Geryon nodded in understanding and went back to eating as I saw Hodor pass by, the giant of a man smiling slightly and nodding in greeting. I nodded back and said nothing, instead thinking of my situation once more.

Was I making the right choices in trusting the Stark family?

I swore vows to Lord Stark, and that was a serious thing. It wasn't a drunken promise to be easily forgotten in the four winds. I promised I would be loyal to him and guard his life. Granted, I made sure not to swear to give up my life for his— because it's a stupid thing to vow, I'd rather simply save us both.

Still, a vow had meaning to me. Without vows I wouldn't be any better than a criminal.

I nodded to myself. In the weeks I'd been here, I had seen Lord Stark interact with the many guards, cooks, and servants at Winterfell. I hadn't seen him mistreat them, not once.

Sure, they seemed a little wary around him, but he had the look of a hard man— and he was their boss, to boot. You don't joke around with the big guns upstairs, not unless you earn their friendship.

Like I have.

When I had become better friends with Jon and not, say, Robb, Lord Stark became intrigued by me. That's not to say we became best friends, or anything, but I think his opinion of me heightened from that moment.

Not many people befriended bastards in these lands. After reading about the Blackfyre rebellions, and listening to the mutterings of the folk living here, I learned that bastards were considered to be trash, only trying to usurp their fathers' seats of power.

Obviously as a modern thinking being, I knew that it had nothing to do with bastardry, but more to do with greed and the environments people grew up under.

Jon was a nice guy who was depressed a lot of the time— and with good reason; he has no mother figure, his father is scared to treat him like a son because of his wife. His brothers and sisters do acknowledge him somewhat, but they don't really understand his plight, either.

Would he betray the Starks?

Never.

Why?

Because he loved his father and his siblings.

Simple as that.

That's why I stayed friends with him. I would even go as far as to say Jon was a close friend of mine, now.

Lord Stark's opinion of me changed once more when I healed his son's life with magic. At first he had wanted to throttle me for hurting his son, but when he saw the boy's healed legs which were still able to function normally, he quickly changed his tune.

Add to that, the fact that I aided him in his quest to get justice for his boy only cemented the man's opinion of me. He even started to let me call him Ned— rather, Lord Ned.

I shook my head slightly.

Was I getting too attached to this family?

 _§So what if you're getting attached?§_ Balthazar cut through my thoughts. _§We're all alone, out here. We need friends. We need someone we can go to when there's trouble. We can't be on our own, forever.§_

Balthazar was right, as always.

§ _But, if we find a way home...§_ I hissed back weakly. _§Won't we just be wasting our time? I don't want to have to choose between my new friends and my old ones.§_

 _§We'll make that decision when we come to it— if we ever come to it.§_ Balthazar said placating. _§That's no excuse to stay on our own. At the very least, a task like this would take years upon years. Are you supposed to go live the rest of your days in the woods?§_

 _§True.§_ I replied.

 _§And besides, you could do a whole lot worse than the Starks.§_ Balthazar said. _§For a pack of uncivilized dogs with no bathrooms, the Starks seem like they're the best of the lot.§_

I nodded, agreeing with that statement.

Whenever I doubted my choice to join up with the Starks, all I had to do was look at what the Lannister family had done to Bran. Hell, their demeanor in general. The Cunt Queen, who was probably still moaning under the Maester's care— that came out wrong— was the best example of how the Southerners acted.

It's rather simple.

The day I first saw her, she stepped out of her carriage, looking outright disgusted with anything and everything. She treated her servants like they were things— hell; she even ignored her two younger children.

Where the Starks were kind and polite, she was cruel and dismissive.

And this was the Queen of all the Seven Kingdoms— so all the Southern Ladies would emulate her behavior to some degree. That's how these things worked.

"Harry." I heard Jon's voice drag me out of my deep thought. "You here?"

I blinked and saw him pop out of the side.

"Yo." I said by way of greeting. Jon gave me a queer look but shook his head smiling at my strangeness. "You're up early."

"I couldn't sleep." Jon admitted. "I stayed all night guarding Bran."

I winced. "A whole night with the Lady Catelyn?"

"Oh gods, no." Jon said quickly. "Lord Stark convinced her to retire with him."

"You can call him your father, Jon." I said kindly.

Jon gave a nod but didn't acknowledge the statement any other way.

"Always the stoic, aren't you?" I shook my head in exasperation. "How is Bran doing?"

"He's fine." Jon said, smiling. "Better than fine. It was as if the Old Gods came and gave him his legs back."

So Bran hadn't told him anything.

"It was nothing like I'd ever seen." Jon admitted. "I saw his wounds. I had thought..."

He trailed off.

"Keep a secret?" I asked lightly. Jon gave me a look, and nodded warily.

"I healed him." I stated simply. "I told Lord and Lady Stark to keep it a secret from everyone, to pretend that Maester Luwin found a way to fix him."

A moment passed. And then—

"Wh— You?" Jon said incredulously. "How?"

"Have you ever wondered how I'm so fast?" I replied to his question with a question of my own.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Jon asked, a little irritation and impatience in his tone.

"Just answer the question." I said.

"I—" Jon took a breath. "Well, yes. I have. You've shown me your true speed, and it was far beyond anything I had ever seen. I had just assumed..."

He said nothing after.

"Assumed what?" I prodded.

"It might sound farfetched..." Jon trailed off.

"I do enjoy the farfetched." I smiled and pushed the issue. "Tell me."

"Well." He looked a little embarrassed. "I'd thought you came right out of the Age of Heroes; a legendary descendant of theirs, maybe."

I was quiet for a short while.

"It's a fair guess. I can see why you would think that." I said, and meant it.

Why wouldn't he think I was straight out of the Age of Heroes? I had the strength of five men, speed the likes of which no one has seen on this earth, and a weird scaled arm wrapped in a tale of magic and revenge.

"I wouldn't really be able to confirm it to you either way, as all records of my ancestry are gone— have been gone for as long as I can remember." I replied with a half-truth. "But I can tell you that I have learned how to use magic."

"Magic?" Jon said incredulously. "Impossible. Magic is gone from these—"

The stable filled with a pale blue light as Jon watched the electricity in palm of my hand, arcing from finger to finger.

"—Lands." Jon finished and gaped for a short moment.

"What..." Jon looked at it, and then at me. "How?"

The Lightning receded back into my body and I lowered my hands. "Long, hard work, Jon."

"And you... Used this magic to heal Bran?" Jon asked.

I nodded. "Bran, Maester Luwin, and the Lord and Lady Stark know. No one else."

"Well; no one else but you, now." I said, my lips quirking in an odd smile.

Jon looked a little perturbed, as well as confused, by the revelation as he tried to wrap his head around it. I didn't blame him. If I were a Muggle and someone told me such things I would have laughed in their face and told them to go visit an asylum.

"When Old Nan spoke of magic, the tales were always gruesome, and horrifying." Jon said, looking at me strangely. "The users of such arts, craven men who wish for power to the exclusion of all else."

"Hm." I said, having seen Old Nan walking around the stronghold a few times. "She's a superstitious old woman who doesn't know any better. Do I look like an evil and craven man to you?"

"No." Jon replied, smiling a little. "I would have mistaken you for a great big pile of fur, what with that unruly mop hair."

"Look who's talking." I shot back. "You look like a girl, with yours."

We shared a short laugh, before Jon came back to his senses.

"I almost forgot." He said sheepishly. "Bran said he wanted to see you."

I nodded, before pulling a pile of hay and putting it next to Geryon. "I'll be back, okay?"

The horse gave me a nod and a nudge, as if to say, "Get out of here."

I followed Jon around, staring at the people milling about as he led me to Bran's chambers. There were fewer guards patrolling, now. I supposed since the entire ordeal was over, there would be no need for any further guard.

The two men stationed at Bran's door gave us a nod, and moved aside to grant us entry.

Inside, Bran sat on the bed, looking extremely bored as he ran his hands along his direwolf, Summer's, fur. Ghost was also here, currently flicking Summer in the face with his tail in some attempt to irritate his sibling.

"Bran." Jon smiled before bopping Ghost on the head. Ghost responded by jumping off the bed and circling his master, tail wagging happily.

"Morning, Bran." I said. "Jon said you wanted to speak to me?"

The boy's expression turned serious, as he took his hand off of Summer, who whined in protest. He paid it no mind.

"You saw it, too, didn't you?" Bran asked softly as I sat by the bed. "I could feel you with me, in my dreams."

"Yes." I said. "I linked my magic with yours for a few short moments."

Jon shifted at the revelation but kept quiet.

"My magic." Bran closed his eyes. "Your magic. It's hard to believe."

"You're still young." I said. "I'm sure you'll grow into your gifts."

"I feel stronger than I ever have, before." Bran admitted. "Your doing?"

"Yes." I confirmed. "I didn't consider the possibility of it. I was simply trying to get your legs working again."

"Unintentional, then." Bran murmured. "But welcome, nonetheless."

"We have to talk about what you and I saw." I said.

Bran nodded. "I want to believe it's a nightmare conjured up from Old Nan's tales, but you saw it, as well. You know it's coming south."

"What's coming south?" Jon asked.

A few moments passed, so he repeated himself.

"The Others." I said quietly as Bran nodded. "We saw the Others surrounded by an army of the dead. Where else could they be, aside from north of the Wall?"

"The Others?" Jon blurted. "Impossible. Those are just Old Nan's—" He stopped himself and looked at me.

A few more seconds passed as Jon deflated.

"Just your Old Nan's tales of magic and heroes." I finished for him. "I'm actual proof of their validity. The Others are coming. When? I don't know. How? I don't know. But, they're coming."

"We should— The Night's Watch must know." Jon said strongly.

"You think they'll believe the word of three children?" I asked, scoffing. "You know better."

"But— Uncle Benjen?" Bran asked, also distraught over the matter. "He's in danger."

"Benjen?" I repeated. "Oh, I think I saw him at the feast, I believe. He's in the Night's Watch?"

"Aye." Jon said. "He's the First Ranger."

I processed this information.

"I don't know what to tell you." I said, wracking my brain to find a solution. "He cannot abandon the Wall, or they'll kill him for desertion— not that I believe he would ever desert. You Starks are honorable to a fault."

"I'll send him a raven." Bran said petulantly. "It can't hurt to tell him."

He might have magic, but he was still a boy. A scared boy who didn't want his family to die.

So I nodded and said what he wanted to hear. "At the very least, he'll resolve himself to stay alive for as long as he can. Do it."

"And us?" Jon said. "We should head to the Wall, as well."

"It's not a smart move." I said.

"You and Bran said the Others are coming." Jon said. "I will not sit idly by and wait."

"But we won't be sitting idly by." I retorted. "Sure, you and I can prove to be a great help to the Night's Watch; but we're only two men. The dead have an army out there. I've seen it. Bran has seen it. You think a few hundred men of the Night's Watch can avert this invasion?"

Jon kept quiet as I pushed on. "A few hundred men who are mostly comprised of thieves, murderers and rapists who wouldn't hesitate to leave if they had the chance?"

"No, Jon." I said slowly. "We're going to gather men, and then we'll go to the Wall to show these ice shits how things are done."

They tried to control me with their magic, in the void. I would rip them to shreds for the attempt— the fact that I was likely saving millions of lives in the process was just a bonus to me.

"You're right." Jon admitted, still looking angry and confused. "I don't like it. I don't like it a bit. But I understand."

"It's a hard choice to make." I said. "It will take time; a very long time."

"What will?" Eddard Stark said as he came into the room.

"Father!" Bran and Jon said in surprise.

Eddard smiled as he patted Jon on the shoulder and ruffled Bran's hair.

"How are you feeling, Bran?" Lord Stark asked.

"I'm fine, Father." Bran seemed a little exasperated, but I could tell he was happy to see his father. "Better than ever."

"Good." Ned said, nodding. "That's good."

Then he turned to me. "Harry."

"Lord Ned." I greeted back. "We have to tell you something."

And so we told him everything. It took a while to bring him around to the idea, but a few displays of electricity and my own proclamation that Bran had some form of magical power within him finally got him to believe us— if a little reluctantly.

"I see..." Lord Stark said heavily. "Harry is right, Bran. If we send a missive to the Wall speaking of the... Of the Others, it will be dismissed immediately. They would simply say I have taken leave of my senses. Even I have trouble believing in it."

"And, while you would make a fine man of the Night's Watch, Jon..." Lord Stark said. "I believe we can do more good by rallying the North and attempting to get the other Kingdoms' allegiances— however difficult it may be."

"Our work is cut out for us." I said grimly.

"Aye." Lord Stark agreed. "Tywin Lannister will not take kindly to Cersei's punishment, for one."

"But, she had me thrown out of the tower!" Bran argued, showing his naiveté, which was expected. He was only a boy of seven years.

"I know." Lord Stark said patiently. "But, part of becoming a man is accepting some hard truths, my son."

Bran nodded, still angry.

"Lord Lannister will only see this as a slight on his House's honor." Ned said patiently. "To him, we are the source of it, and I'm afraid Tywin Lannister is a man who does not forget slights to his family."

"Father?" Bran asked, sounding a little concerned, concern which turned to fear, but Ned did not say anything.

"In any case." Lord Stark said wearily, changing the subject. "This news only makes it all the more imperative I assume my role as Hand of the King."

"What am _I_ to do, Father?" Jon asked, feeling a little lost.

"Help me." He smiled at his son. "Keep your sisters safe when we go to King's Landing. Become the great man I know you can be."

Jon looked down, overwhelmed by his father's kind words.

Eddard turned to me.

"I'm not quite sure what more I could ask of you, Harry." He said. "You've helped Bran get better, and you've been helping Jon with his training. You've also aided my efforts in finding the culprit of the crime against Bran, and seen to it that they've received justice. In the few short weeks you've been here, you've done more for me than most of the Lords I know."

"It was nothing." I said.

"You underestimate the gravity of your decisions." Lord Stark said. "You have made an enemy of the Lannisters. You could have refused to enter a trial by combat, and I would have fought against Ser Barristan— a fight I'm not sure I could win."

"But, you defeated Ser Arthur Dayne, father?" Bran asked, confusion heavy in his tone.

Lord Stark shifted uncomfortably, before speaking once more. "Nothing is certain in a duel to the death. Ser Barristan is an accomplished swordsman, arguably the best in the Kingdom— or, he would have been, before Harry had defeated him in combat."

"Regardless." Ned pushed on. "You could have refused. The fact that you accepted and sealed Cersei's fate is not something she'll soon forget, if ever. When she goes to Casterly Rock, she'll have her father's ear. Doubtless, you would be made into Tywin's enemy."

I frowned.

"It's always the same, wherever I go. The strong always prey on the weak." I shook my head. "The Lannisters sound like nothing more than scum with enough gold and political clout to absolve them of their crimes."

Just like the Malfoys.

"They can believe I'm their enemy all they like. If they make any move against me, then their lives are forfeit." I said calmly. "I'd take their castle, or simply destroy the whole thing."

I could just sneak in the place and unleash a Fiendfyre. Or I could wait for a storm and grab hold of the accumulated energy of the clouds and direct it all to the castle. Or, I could disillusion myself and stealthily kill everyone there.

The third option seemed to be the best out of all. That way, I could avoid killing the blameless. I'd killed before. Hundreds of Death Eaters during the battle at Azkaban. They had all fallen to my Lightning Dragonslayer Magic, or the hundreds of serpents I had summoned.

But, those were Death Eaters; the scum of the scum. "Pureblood" wizards and witches who believed themselves to be superior to their fellows, as well as those without magic. They believed only they had the right to use it.

I taught them who the real master was— tearing through their chests, frying them living with my electricity, and breaking their bones, one man and woman at a time.

But, I still didn't wish to kill children. I didn't want to kill innocent men and women, either.

A stray thought entered my mind: "Would you punish the Lannister banner men for simply following the orders of their lord?"

I had no answer.

" _You care too much for these humans."_ Erebus thought to me.

"And you care too little." I thought back vehemently. "Don't think I forget what you are, Devil Centurion Erebus. You are the progenitor of Dementors. You are Darkness and Despair incarnate. And I've beaten you. Not the other way around. Got it?"

" _Hmph!_ " Erebus said. " _Your time here has softened you up, Master._ "

"Maybe that's a good thing, you know." I thought. "Better to do good while minimizing the bad. Better to care than not, or I would be just like _him_."

" _Perhaps."_ And the Devil Arm thought nothing further.

"A jest, surely?" Lord Stark cut through my thoughts. He was staring at me.

"Destroying it is probably not the viable option, you're right." I admitted. "It has a good, defensible position; I suppose it would be a waste to reduce it to a pile of rubble."

"You are saying you can destroy an entire castle." Jon said incredulously. "You have... magic, yes. But an entire castle?"

"Yes." I said, seeing no point in hiding it. "Three dragons did the same to the castle Harrenhal. I don't see any reason I can't do the same. The point is, their considerations are not important to me, Lord Stark."

The man nodded, not really knowing what to say to me— at least, I assumed he didn't.

"In any case." Ned said, addressing Jon and I. "We march for King's Landing within the hour. You'd best say your goodbyes, boys."

"Is that why you came, Father?" Bran asked; face slowly changing into one of sadness.

"Aye." He sat next to the boy and kissed him on the forehead, before holding him close. "You can visit us in King's Landing, when you 'recover' from your injuries. So you'd best stay in your bed, and get better."

"Yes, Father." Bran said, sounding a little embarrassed at the close contact.

Eddard broke the hug and made to leave.

"I will see you two shortly." He said, and exited.

New allies, new enemies, and a slowly approaching cataclysm.

Where have I heard that one before?


	13. Trip to King's Landing

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 13: Trip to King's Landing**

Day 1

It was almost time to leave for King's Landing.

Eddard's farewell to Bran was followed by our own farewell; to him, and all of the Starks who were going to stay at Winterfell.

"Why don't you go on ahead?" I said to Jon as we stood outside of the Godswood. "I wish to gaze upon the heart tree one more time."

Jon nodded and left without a word. He seemed a bit leery of me after I had informed him of my preternatural gifts. The thought was a bit disconcerting, but I shoved it away. He'll come around eventually. It was a huge subject, after all.

After a bit of time, he'll realize I won't be cutting his belly open so I could gaze into his future through his intestines; or whatever other sick stories his Old Nan had filled his head with.

His father, Eddard, had taken it well enough— the fact that I saved his boy from the life of a cripple had just a teensy little bit to do with it.

A pragmatic man, if nothing else.

The Godswood had become familiar to me over the past few weeks; I easily made my way to the heart tree at its center. I remembered the first time I laid eyes on it. A beautiful tree with a thrum of power all its own.

But I felt something else inside of it.

I placed my hand on the tree's face— carved into it, thousands of years ago— and linked my energy to it.

 _"I know you're there. Raven. You are the Raven, are you not? I saw you in Bran's vision."_ I asked.

No answer.

" _Stop hiding from me. I'm not your enemy._ " I tried.

Still nothing.

I sighed and removed my hand from the tree. Was I wrong? Was the presence a figment of my imagination.I shook my head and walked away.

Then, I felt it.

A pulse.

It was faint, but I felt it for sure. I rushed back to the tree and linked my power with it once more.

" _Hello?_ " I thought, not really expecting an answer.

 _Hello._ The tree answered back in an old, raspy voice.

My breath hitched, my heart quickened, but I quickly mastered myself.

" _You are Raven? The one I saw in Bran's vision._ " I asked.

 _Yes._ The tree answered. _What are you?_ _You are not of this world._

 _"I'm a stranger."_ I said. " _I wish to go home. Do you know how?"_

 _Magic coils around you in such a way that I have never seen— and I have seen much._ Raven did not answer my question. _Perhaps you will be the one to combat the coming Darkness._

I scowled.

 _"You think I'm just some lapdog here to do your bidding and fight your enemies?"_ I snarled. " _Or..."_

I considered the possibilities and felt hatred and anger build in my chest.

" _Are you the one who brought me here?"_ I said with barely suppressed rage.

 _I am not._ Raven said.

" _Oddly convenient, how I show up just in time to fight an army of the dead and these White Walkers of yours."_ I countered.

 _True._ Raven admitted as much, patient as can be. _But I did not do it. Your arrival here was a complete surprise— many of my plans have gone to the wayside with your arrival. Things are progressing much faster than I believed they would._

The consciousness seemed almost... Irritated?

" _I'll bite."_ I sighed and forcefully calmed myself down. " _What's going faster?"_

 _Your arrival. It triggered something._ Raven said. _Magic has almost dwindled into nothingness, but, with your arrival, it is stronger now than it has been for the past few centuries. I feel my own power rising by the day, as well. No doubt, many of the practitioners to the east are strengthened, most notably the Red Priests of R'hllor. To the North... The Others are also amassing their forces to attack._

" _Those beings I saw in the void—"_

 _Yes._ Raven confirmed. _Let me show you._

What happened next could only be describe as an icy cold sensation covering me whole; almost exactly like a pensieve. Was I about to be shown memories?

 _No, young mage._ Raven rasped. _You wished to behold your enemies._

I found myself standing in the snow. As far as the eye could see, there was snow. The breeze changed direction suddenly, and my bile immediately leapt up my throat. This smell— no, it wasn't just a smell; my energy had linked to it.

To horrific results.

I fought to rein myself in as I took in my enemy's true nature. The cloying stench of rot and decay battered at my senses. It was a strange rot, eternal and so, _so cold_. I felt it creep up my own being, and flared my power in response, driving it away like sunlight to a vampire.

 _Your enemy._ Raven's voice echoed in the lands as I watched the owners of the stench march forth in the snow, not even realizing I was there. Thousands upon thousands of dead bodies, animated by the magic of these Others— there was one.

A female White Walker, she stopped for a moment, letting me get a good look at her features. She had skin as white as the moon and eyes, blue as the sky. Her face, expressionless. Cold. Alien.

Not a shred of humanity to her.

She looked at me for a few moments with unblinking intensity, before resuming her walk, her eyes glued to mine until I could see them no more as she rejoined the head of the army of the dead, climbing onto a giant spider.

Ice Acromantulas? Hell...

 _That is one of your enemies._ I heard Raven's voice in my head as I found myself elsewhere, watching a man surrounded by men and women in crimson robes. _And this is another._

The man was screaming, crying for a reprieve as the funeral pyre beneath him caught fire. The smell of smoke and burning flesh hit my nostrils, making me choke slightly. The noise made them all look my direction, eyes black as night.

They said something in a strange language— High Valyrian from the sound of it— but I understood the name "R'hllor" well enough. Fire suddenly surrounded me from all sides, but I dispelled it with a swing of Erebus, ending the connection and sending me all the way back to the heart tree in Winterfell.

 _I am not the one who brought you here._ Raven said again. _And, I do not know if the heralds of fire and ice have done the same. However, they have been aware of your existence the moment of your arrival, and they will not rest until you have been killed— or worse._

My eyes narrowed, remembering the Great Other's attempt to control me in the void.

" _They have no idea who it is exactly they're playing with."_ I snarled.

 _Indeed._ Raven said wryly. _Know that I will aid you in any way I can, Harry Potter._

" _Why help me?"_ I asked suspiciously.

Raven was silent for a few moments. _I had believed to be only capable of defeating the Others, but not R'hllor. But you... Your song is different. Yours is not of ice. It is not of fire. It is not of ice and fire. Your song is of ice, fire and lightning. The best choice._

" _... A song of ice, fire and lightning?"_ I repeated confused. _"What the hell does that even mean, old man?"_

 _You must go._ Raven said. _Someone has been trying to speak to you for the past ten seconds._

" _Wait, I—_ " That was as far as I got before Raven broke the connection, retreating away from the tree, far to the north of the Wall until I lost track of him completely.

"—rry?" I heard Jon's voice. "Harry."

"W-what?" I said, taking a moment to reorient myself. "You stayed behind?"

"No." Jon said, looking a little amused. "They've begun the march to King's Landing. I told father I would come collect you. They're not waiting for us."

"Oh!" I hurriedly followed the fellow teen to the stables. Hodor was already there, holding Geryon's rein as well as Jon's horse's rein. I flashed the big man a grin.

"Thank you so much, Hodor!" I smiled, dug my hand in my gold pouch, and gave him ten gold dragons, to his surprise and widening eyes. "Here."

"Hodor!" Hodor exclaimed before trying to hand the money back. "Hodor."

I pushed back, overpowering the giant man's strength— something Jon noticed— easily and closing his hand on the coins.

"You've been nothing short of amazing with Geryon." I smiled, patting the much older man on the shoulder. "Take it, do whatever you want with it, okay?"

He still looked dubious, but managed a small smile and a nod, before pocketing the coins. "Hodor."

I nodded back and leapt on Geryon's back as Jon mounted his own horse. "I will see you again when I come back, my friend."

Hodor shouted us goodbye in Hodor fashion as we rode out to catch up with the King's court. The ride was silent, and bit on the long side. How long had I been communing with the heart tree?

Eventually, we saw the small army of Stark, Baratheon, and Lannister banner men in the distance and breathed a sigh of relief and slowed our horses down to a leisurely trot, letting them recover from the long run.

"Jon." I said.

"Yes?" He turned away from Ghost, who had been running alongside us, to look at me. "Something the matter?"

"Oh, no." I replied. "I was just wondering about King's Landing. Do you know anything of it?"

"I've never been." Jon admitted. "But I have heard it stinks both physically and of corruption from the many who've visited Winterfell over the years."

"That so?" I said. "I read that there are whole skeletons of dragons in the throne room— or there _were,_ until King Robert removed them."

Jon grimaced, but said nothing. I understood why.

"I know." I said. "I wasn't expecting some fat shit to be King, either."

"Harry!" Jon whispered loudly, looking a little panicked.

"What?" I gave him an incredulous look. "They're all far ahead from us. No one can hear us, here."

"Still..." Jon said stubbornly.

I smiled indulgently, but didn't push the issue, as we had finally reached the small army of men. The people gave us curious looks, but let us pass, having recognized us. We passed a few carriages, which probably had Arya and Sansa— as well as the Septa Mordane, a woman I didn't really talk to— and the wheelhouse likely containing the disgraced former Queen and the former Prince.

A few minutes later, we reached the head of the large convoy.

"Jon. Harry." Ned greeted us.

"Lord Ned." "Father." Jon and I replied.

Robert seemed to find my greeting amusing. "Lord Ned, he says."

"I've brought Harry." Jon said unnecessarily, but dutifully.

"So I see." Ned said, before eying me. "What kept you?"

"Apologies. I was praying by the heart tree and lost track of time." I smiled and slightly ducked my head.

"No harm done." Ned said, before pointing to two spots a row behind him. They were empty.

We understood easily enough and assumed our positions. And so started the long, boring trek to King's Landing. If I was riding alone, the trip would have most likely taken me a week.

According to the maps I've read, King's Landing was almost two thousand miles away, possibly even more. So, if we maintained this speed, it would take us over a month to reach our destination.

Maybe two, I redid my calculations. We could only probably cover thirty miles a day, obviously. We were on horses, but there were plenty of infantry and servants on foot.

Another few hours passed slowly before the march was interrupted once more.

"Halt!" We heard someone yell from a fair bit away.

We complied.

A man rode to the head of the convoy to address the King.

"Your Grace..." The soldier said nervously— he probably drew the short straw.

"Yes?" King Robert blathered impatiently. "Out with it!"

"The Queen's wheelhouse—"

"Former Queen." Robert reminded him with a glare.

"A-Ah, yes!" The soldier stammered. "I apologise Your Grace. The Former Queen's wheelhouse, sire. It's broken down. The wheel has broken."

"I swear..." Robert grumbled. "Why I agreed to take the woman as far as the River Road is beyond me. Not worth this hassle."

"Your Grace..." The soldier tried.

"Should have simply sent her away with the Lannister banner men." Robert continued as if he wasn't even there.

"Your Grace." The soldier tried again, the irritation he felt likely giving him some confidence.

"Still standing here?" The King glared and the soldier wilted. "Have the servants repair that damned wheelhouse."

"Yes, Your Grace." The nameless soldier scurried away in fear.

King Robert shook his head, grumbling some more.

This was going to be a long march.

Day 15

I was irritated.

Really, really, _really_ irritated.

This was the fourth time that shitty wheelhouse had broken down, and stopped us from marching. Every time this happened, we had to wait a few hours for the chicken shit servants to figure out how to fix it.

Another reminder of the absolute inferiority of the people living here. Over eight thousand years of rich history and they still couldn't figure out how to fix a damn wheelhouse.

Honestly, at this point, it was probably a miracle they had enough brains to even create the wheelhouse in the first place.

The first three times, I was happy that the former Queen Cersei was pissing off the King with every successive break which occurred. The King had even said she would be forced to ride alongside everyone else if this happened once more.

He didn't follow through with his threat. All he did was grumble ineffectually.

Some King he was.

So, today, while the Queen and the Prince were out doing something else, I went to the carriage and helped the peasants fix the damn thing.

It took a few seconds to find that it was a broken axle this time. A quick muttered " _Reparo"_ had the axle good as new. I followed up with an application of " _Pati_ " on the whole wheelhouse.

It glowed slightly, but the sun shone so strong today no one saw it.

There. That fixes this stupid contraption. I breathed a sigh of relief, before turning to the peasants, who had come back with whatever I had tasked them to retrieve. It was a ploy to keep them away.

"You can take those back." I waved them off. "I fixed it, myself."

"Potter, the peasant mender?" A voice crowed from the side. I turned to see Joffrey gazing at me with his malicious gaze; a sword at his side, and that horribly scarred man, too.

It was an imposing look— if I was a little kid who was easily cowed.

"If it isn't the former Heir to the Iron Throne! At least, Joffrey, I'm good for something. Unlike you." I smiled back maliciously.

"What did you just say to me?" Joffrey said threateningly, hand on his sword.

"I said that you're useless." I dusted off my hand. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I should kill you where you stand!" Joffrey almost snarled.

"You couldn't fight your way out of a paper bag." I taunted.

"But, by all means, go ahead." I smirked and glanced at Sandor Clegane. That was his name. He was also known as the Hound. Rumor had it that his elder brother, the horrible Gregor Clegane, had shoved his face into a fireplace, which was why he was disfigured.

Pretty horrific story.

I put my hand in my pocket, grabbing hold of my wand as Joffrey turned to his loyal bodyguard.

" _Rictusempra."_ I whispered and a faint silver light shot out and hit the boy, who doubled over, laughing hysterically.

"Um." I feigned confusion, before addressing Sandor. "What's wrong with him?"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA! I CAN'T STOP!" Joffrey crowed with glee.

"I—" Sandor looked absolutely dumbfounded. "I have no idea."

"D-D-HAHAH! D-Dog! G-Get- HAHAHAH!" Joffrey tried to speak but kept breaking into raucous laughter every time.

This time, I couldn't help the smug smirk that spread on my face.

"What a waste of my time." I walked away, as people began to crowd around the boy.

"HAHAHAHA!"

I shook my head in amusement and cancelled the spell, hearing the laughter disappear in an instant.

"Move aside!" I heard his shrill yell, followed by the slamming of the wheelhouse's door.

Heh.

Day 18

"Oh, it's unspeakable to you!?" King Robert almost shouted.

We were currently taking a short break— we had been marching for five hours straight and stopped at a large, open clearing. We were making good time, already having passed by The Twins. In a few days, we'd reach the Crossroads Inn, and Cersei and her brat Joffrey would piss off for good.

After that prank on Joffrey, I decided to follow up with a few more.

I thanked Fred and George, wherever they were. The day after our altercation, I had snagged him with a _Tarantallegra_ while Arya and the butcher's boy, Mycah, were sparring against Jon.

Joffrey had shown up with his eternal bodyguard Sandor, and challenged the butcher's boy to a fight, using live steel blades. Arya tried to yell her way out of the situation but the former Heir was having none of it— he was still a Prince, Heir or not.

Jon couldn't really say anything. His status as bastard was quite the annoyance.

So I threw the Dancing Feet Spell on Joffrey. The results were hilarious. The fool boy hand moonwalked his way to the water, screeching in confusion and fear the whole time before tripping and falling in the water, back first.

Of course, I cancelled the spell as soon as he was submerged. It would not do for the Prince to drown, no matter how much I disliked his bullying.

A few days later I threw the Confundus Charm on him while he was picking on his younger sister while Tommen, the new Heir, wasn't there to stop him. It left him prone to suggestions, and he had followed Myrcella's suggestion to the letter by jumping out of the carriage and planting his face in the mud for a few moments, before he regained his bearings and ran back to his wheelhouse in shame.

I left him alone, after that.

It was getting a little boring, all things considered. He was such an easy target, there was no more challenge in it.

I stared as King Robert and Ned argued while eating lunch. I was one of the assigned guards, made to stand close enough to defend them— as if anyone would attack a group of this size— but far enough I wouldn't hear them.

But I had some pretty good hearing.

 _§The fact that you used a spell helps.§_ Balthazar quipped.

"Shut up Balthazar." I quickly said as the two men argued further.

"What her father did to your family." Robert said as Ned looked away with a pained grimace. " _That_ was unspeakable."

"What Rhaegar Targaryen did to your sister!" Robert snarled. "The woman I loved!"

He took a breath. "I'll kill every Targaryen I get my hands on."

I frowned at the statement. I mean, I understood the need to get rid of possible threats to his throne, but to kill those in exile... Wasn't that taking things a little too far?

"Well, you can't get your hands on this one, can you?" Ned asked calmly, probably of a same mind as I was.

"This Khal Drogo." Robert continued unabated. "It's said he has a hundred thousand men in his horde."

"Even a _million_ Dothraki are no threat to the Realm." Ned replied dismissively. "As long as they remain on the other side of the Narrow Sea." His voice rose slightly. "They have no _ships_ , Robert!"

"There are still those in the Seven Kingdoms who call me _Usurper."_ Robert said more quietly as Ned calmed down. "A Targaryen boy crosses with a Dothraki horde at his back... The scum will join him!"

"He will not cross." Ned insisted contemptuously. "And, if by chance he does, we'll throw him back into the sea."

Robert gave his friend a long look, before grabbing his mug and taking a long swig. "There's a war coming, Ned. I don't know when. I don't know who we'll be fighting. But it's coming."

Targaryens in the east. Lannisters from the west. Dissenters in the ranks, especially in Dorne. Despite all of his faults, at least Robert was wise enough to know that war was inevitable.

Day 25

Today was the day we reached the crossroad between the Kingsroad and River Road, where Cersei and her son would break off from our convoy and head west to Casterly Rock, becoming Tywin Lannister's problem, and not ours.

Joffrey, when I wasn't jinxing him, was still prowling around, antagonizing anyone he laid his eyes on.

Arya, Jon, Mycah and I had found a spot to train. Arya and Mycah were just fighting as all silly children do— clash blades together thinking they were in some amazing, world changing fight.

Jon and I, on the other hand, only clashed blades to block and parry strikes which were unavoidable.

The two of us were of a similar build, and fought the same way for the most part.

I had even bestowed a measure of power on him, after a few weeks of arguing.

He had been against the idea since day one. My magic frightened him, I knew this. He seemed leery of Bran for the short while he had discovered of the boy's own powers.

With me, he was less talkative, more careful in how he dealt with me.

But he eventually warmed back up to me, when he realized I wasn't going to slit his throat in his sleep, or chop his nut sack off for some ritual or whatever these backwater shits thought. I supposed with the nature of magic in these lands, I shouldn't have been surprised at the attitude toward it.

Warming up to me was one thing, but accepting the gift of my power was another thing entirely.

For weeks, he had changed the subject whenever I brought it up. When he couldn't, he simply refused. After his sixth refusal, I upped the ante in our spars. I unleashed half of my true speed on the fellow teen, completely overwhelming him each and every time we fought.

When I was done showing him my superiority in sheer speed, I then demonstrated my physical strength by using a single hand to directly block all of his two handed sword strikes. No misdirection, no parries; just full frontal blocks.

He seemed too angry to want to talk to me, but I kept massacring him in our spars.

After a few days of that, I finally told him why I wanted to give him some of my power. I couldn't be expected to fight the Others on my own, and I needed his help.

He ended up giving me reluctant consent.

"You won't regret it." I had told him, placing my hand over his heart, transfering energy into him— unaligned energy, rather than my Lightning.

Nothing happened for a few moments, but then a ball of sky blue flame exited from Jon's hand, striking a tree and setting it ablaze.

Jon had been horrified as I quickly drenched it with water.

It took a few sharp slaps, as well as many promises of training, to calm the fellow teenager down. And so, I trained him in the use of his flames at night, making sure to be away from prying eyes.

It was pretty inconvenient, all things considered, but secrecy had to be maintained if we wanted to avoid being lynched— or at least being under the threat of being lynched.

Still, I thought to myself as I parried one of Jon's strikes— the energy had also made him faster and stronger, though nowhere near my level— he was a child of the North, of the ice, but he had powers over fire.

I was reminded of the Raven's words; a song of ice and fire.

Tch. The ramblings of an ancient tree entity. What did it matter?

There were more important things to be done.

I left my foot out and Jon tripped over it, but catching himself quickly enough to block the swipe I had aimed at his head.

I smiled, and attacked again.

Whatever was coming, we'd be ready for it.


	14. Arrival

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 14: Arrival**

During yet another night on the road to King's Landing, Jon and I decided that he needed more training in the magical arts. At first, I had let him try his own methods, see what worked and what didn't.

Perhaps he would grow to learn control on his own.

I overestimated him; or, rather, I underestimated the difficulty of the task at hand. His fire was uncontrollable; he knew not of how to direct it, to channel it.

He didn't have a repository of knowledge to rely on, to guide him through the steps.

So, tonight, I figured I'd try a different method; take on a more 'hands-on' approach to the matter.

Jon stared at me after I gave him his first task.

"Meditate?" Jon asked dubiously, but sat down, cross legged.

"Yes." I said patiently. "Magic is not like a sword, Jon."

"Old Nan used to say that sorcery is a sword without a hilt." Jon argued.

I stifled an eye roll and humored him.

"Your Old Nan is wise, and knows many things." I admitted before adopting a chiding tone. "But magic is my domain, not hers. I doubt she knows anything of the true dangers— and limits— of magic. It's much different than wielding a sword."

Jon only nodded.

"Even with no training in using a sword, you can still do some serious damage with it, as it's mostly instinct and common sense." I said. "An obvious point, considered trivial by most."

Jon nodded for me to continue.

"But magic is not a sword." I said again. "It is not some inanimate object you can wave around and get results. It's power, real power. And it has a mind of its own. You have to exert your force of will over it. You have to assert yourself and become the flame. Make it a part of you."

My words seemed to strike the boy at his core. His icy exterior shattered into a perturbed, yet excited gaze.

"Become... The flame?" Jon asked.

"We'll keep it simple, for now." I smiled patiently, remembering my first days of channeling my Lightning. "Close your eyes, and try to focus on the darkness around you. It may be instant, or it may take minutes. I will speak further when it's time for the next step."

Jon nodded, and closed his eyes.

"Steady your breathing. I found that it helps." I added, trying ot be helpful.

Jon twitched in slight annoyance but said no words.

It took longer than I expected, but shorter than I was dreading. Five minutes? I didn't really keep track. Yeah, something like five minutes; it was about the same amount of time it took me to reach a meditative state.

"You see the darkness." I whispered quietly.

"Yes." Jon confirmed, just as quietly.

"Good. Try to search for your power. A sort of blue warmth within you." I instructed and waited once more.

Another few minutes passed and I saw Jon scrunch his eyes. "Relax, breathe. There is no hurry. Don't be discouraged if you don't find it immediately."

Jon nodded, before steadying his breath again and taking the time to reach a meditative state once more. Some time after that, I noticed a small blue ember floating in his outstretched left palm.

"You feel it, don't you?" I said quietly.

Jon smiled to himself.

"It's incredible..." Jon trailed off as the ball of flame tripled in size, casting a strong light at the nearby trees.

"Open your eyes." I said.

Jon complied. And then he _stared_.

"You are the flame, Jon." I said, knowing if I told him not to lose control, he would. "The flame is an extension of yourself, like your arms and legs. It will never disobey you as long as you assert yourself."

Jon nodded, mesmerized by the fire in the palm of his hand.

It suddenly winked out of existence, and Jon panted with the exertion, his whole body sweating buckets.

"I thought I had control of it." Jon tried to keep his breathing under control. He looked disappointed with the results.

"You did." I confirmed, to his surprise. "Very good control, for a first timer."

"But..." Jon stared at his hands.

"Magic is powerful, this is true." I explained. "But it is not limitless. Never forget that."

A few moments passed as Jon understood.

"You keep practicing, and your well of power will increase in size." I said. "As I've said, your magic is part of you, like your muscles."

"And muscles get stronger when you train them." Jon finished in realization.

I smiled. "Exactly. Once you're strong enough, you can perhaps reach the intensity of dragon flame itself. Come on, let's go back to the encampment."

"But I wish to practice some more." Jon protested much like a child being denied seconds of a delicious treat.

"You can't." I said. "Like a muscle, you need to practice; also like a muscle, you need to be careful not to overuse it, or you will suffer debilitating pain and severe exhaustion, possibly even death if the exertion is too much. Understand?"

Jon looked mutinous, but nodded regardless, not really willing to chance it.

I smiled and followed the fellow teen back to one of the Stark guard tents.

Things between the two of us had been a little rocky on most of the trip to King's Landing. Ever since he learned of my magic he had been leery of it, avoiding me whenever I brought it up. It was a little irritating, but understandable.

With the discovery of his new powers, Jon had immediately looked to me for guidance. As a result, our friendship was strengthened over hours of toiling and practice.

Jory Cassel was staring at nothing in particular when we came in. He glanced at us, took in our worn out appearance and nodded. "Out for some night time practice?"

I smiled and greeted Jory with a wave.

"Yes." I said simply. "Something on your mind, captain?"

"Nothing of grave importance." Jory shook his head.

"Must be quite something, if it's keeping you up." Jon noted lightly as he lay down on his makeshift bed, a mix of furs and padding that did very little in the way of comfort.

Mine had cushioning charms laid on, so it worked out.

I could only imagine what the rest were going through.

"..." Jory kept quiet.

"I know what it is." I gave Jory a knowing look. "That one red headed girl at the Crossroads Inn."

He shifted uncomfortably, but didn't say a word.

"I knew it." I crowed slightly. "Your squirming tells me everything, captain!"

"Off to bed with you." Jory said a little aggressively, but with a slight smile on his face. He turned to Jon, whose grin faded immediately. "You too, Jon."

Jon complied quickly.

I snorted in amusement, placed Erebus parallel to me on the floor and laid on my "bed", thinking about all that's happened.

Everybody breathed a massive sigh of relief when the Lannister men broke off with the former Queen Cersei and the former Heir Joffrey to head to their family seat of Casterly Rock.

Joffrey had been a major pain the entire way. He seemed to take his partial disownment badly, lashing out at everyone and everything around him, though his mother's kept assuring him that he would inherit Casterly Rock, instead, as Robert had denied him the seat of power in the Stormlands, Storm's End.

The Queen, on the other hand, had taken to long, quiet silences, when not with Joffrey. I noted that, whenever she approached her brother Jaime, his face would morph into that of disgust and he would practically sprint the other way.

She seemed impassive to most, but I knew better.

Balthazar smelled it. Erebus sensed it. They both said they felt an extreme amount of anger from her, but I only believed it when I saw her face from her wheelhouse window as the Lannister contingent departed westward.

While she thought no one was looking, it was scrunched up in fury and venomous hatred. I did not think someone so beautiful could look so ugly, until that moment.

I relaxed further into my furs and yawned.

There was no sense in losing sleep, worrying about what she was going to do in the future. Better to get some rest and prepare for the incoming shit storm— whenever it comes.

I slept soundly, and woke up to someone prodding my shoulder.

"Huh?" I said blearily as I opened my eyes slightly. "Jon? Is it time already?"

"Yes." Jon said, already sliding his boots on, almost tripping on his sheathed sword. "It's the final bit of the march today. We'll finally reach King's Landing."

All traces of sleep left my body as the excitement rushed through me. Finally, after weeks upon weeks of marching, we were finally going to get there.

So, of course, a few hours of marching later, I was about to just rip my hair out in boredom and frustration until I heard Jon exclaim beside me.

"There it is!"

I looked ahead, and saw it in the distance as well. It was a small sight from this far out, but as we got closer and closer I began to gain a true appreciation for the size of this place. I had read about it extensively— the city that Aegon the Conqueror had established after he had conquered all Seven Kingdoms with nothing but a small army and three dragons.

King's Landing. A city and a castle built on the very edge of the peninsula, named after Aegon's landing in Westeros.

Reading about it was one thing, but seeing it was another thing altogether.

Jon and I shared an excited look as we approached the capital— at least until we reached the gates.

"What's that smell..?" Jon asked as he tugged the collar of his shirt up, preferring to smell his own armor and sweat over the general smell of King's Landing. Ghost whined pitifully.

 _§Oh god. This is too much.§_ Balthazar explained, sounding pained somehow.

The city stinked. No, it _reeked_. It was like a cesspool that had been filled up and closed for a few days before being opened suddenly. The stench hit you hard, but we all seemed to power on through it somehow, slowly growing used to it— with the exception of Ghost, who looked very queasy.

A few surreptitious waves of my wand, and Ghost perked up almost immediately, moving back into formation with us as we all formed up once more.

"What was that?" Jon almost whispered.

"A bit of magic to lighten the poor boy's load." I spoke just as quietly.

It was a neat trick I had been taught by Dumbledore during our training together. I remembered Cedric and Fleur using it in their Second Task, and I remembered Fred and George using it during their 'experiments'.

It was the Bubble-Head Charm— well, not quite, it was modified. It created two very small, partial bubbles right inside something's nose. Created by Dumbledore himself, he had made sure it functioned on most animals and humanoids he knew existed.

And he had taught it to me.

I applied the charm to myself and Jon, relaxing and taking in a deep breath. Jory gave me a strange look, mostly disgust, not noticing Jon doing the same.

"I can't hold my breath forever, now can I?" I felt a little defensive at his grossed out stare.

"I suppose not." Jory grimaced slightly. "Horrible stench, I see what the people meant when they spoke of this place. Smells worse than a latrine pit."

I nodded noncommittally as we swept through the streets, watching the people give short bows to their King and whispering excitedly amongst themselves. We passed the great big Sept I had seen from the distance— the Sept of Baelor the Blessed, it was called; a gigantic waste of space, I called it— and went up Aegon's Hill.

I heard some commotion from the carriage. Arya was trying to look out of the window, but Sansa kept pulling her back and closing it, no doubt nauseated by the many smells around us.

I had not spoken much to Sansa during the trip. She was certainly thankful that her brother's attackers were met with justice, but she was horrified at who had done it.

The Queen had attacked her little brother without provocation, all to hide the secret of a sordid affair she had with her young cousin. I figured they were probably halfway to Casterly Rock, at this point. Well, Lancel was going to the Night's Watch— a bit overkill to do that to a kid barely out of his diapers, but I honestly didn't care all that much.

To me, he was an accomplice in an attack on a child. Nothing more.

Still, the experience had shaken the girl, somewhat. She still seemed to keep to her childish fantasies, but acted with a bit more concern to her siblings.

I guessed that she had been expecting something a little more... Clean, when she had thought of King's Landing.

Well, clean is what she got once we crossed from the city into the Red Keep itself. Honestly, I had no idea of what anything was to be capable of describing for you— I had trouble understanding it, myself.

It was largely comprised of red stone, hence the name Red Keep. I took note of all the fortifications, the towers, the guards posted at every other doorway.

This place was truly a fortress. Wait, was fortress the word?

 _§I believe you mean a redoubt.§_ Balthazar explained patiently. _§Historically, it is a fort, or fort system consisting of an enclosed defensive emplacement outside of a larger fort. Usually it relies on earthworks, but this particular redoubt has been constructed entirely out of the red bricks you see before you.§_

I nodded, understanding in my eyes as I gazed at this place with a new appreciation.

"Smells a lot better up here." Jory muttered to himself as the guards around him grunted in agreement. I hadn't even noticed— the modified Bubble-Head Charm working perfectly to filter out any bad odors.

"Yeah." I agreed just for the sake of it.

Our party stopped and we got off our horses as a man approached Eddard.

"Welcome, Lord Stark." The man greeted with a bow. "Grandmaester Pycelle has called a meeting of the small council. The honor of your presence is requested."

Ned nodded, and turned to Septa Mordane and his two girls who had exited the carriage.

"Get the girls settled in." Ned ordered, receiving a nod. "I'll be back in time for supper."

"Jory, Jon." He turned to his guard captain. "Go with them."

"Yes, my Lord." Jon and Jory said simultaneously, and they all turned to leave, me included.

"Harry." He said, catching my attention. "You come with me."

I looked confused, but nodded anyway. "As you wish."

"If you would—" The messenger froze slightly at Ned's cold gaze. "—Like to change into something more appropriate..."

Ned, still stone faced, merely took his gloves off, staring all the while. The messenger got the hint, turning and leading the way.

"I'll see you later, Jon! Have fun with luggage duty!" I smirked and followed Ned.

A few seconds later, I heard his reply.

"Wow, I've been a bad influence on him." I said.

"Aye." Lord Stark said simply as the messenger led us to the throne room, going through endless hallways and turns and stairs until we finally reached two large sets of doors, each manned by two guards wearing golden colored armor and cloaks.

Guards of the city watch, I thought to myself as I entered the throne room.

It was a large, spacious hall, with stained glass windows lining the sides, and large, thick pillars along the middle, all leading to the raised dais, where what I could only assume to be the Iron Throne sat.

It was an asymmetric monstrosity of spikes, jagged edges, and twisted metal. As if the raised dais was not enough, the throne itself had _stairs_. The actual place you could sit was higher than three men standing on each successive man's shoulders. Even the seat, itself, looked horrific, with spikes on the back, from the sides, and all above.

I had to admit, it was beautiful, in a sick, twisted sort of way.

Jaime sat at the steps, staring at us intensely, but he didn't say a word; I could tell that he wanted to, but he was holding himself back for some reason.

" _He must be upset about his sibling but knows it's pointless to even say anything about it."_ Erebus supplied.

"Will you need me at the actual small council, Lord Ned?" I asked lightly, the two of us stopping.

"Fair point, lad." Ned said. "I doubt you would be allowed in the meeting, itself. You can stay here."

I nodded. A few moments later, Jaime and I were the only ones left in the throne room.

Jaime was still hesitating to speak, even as I moved closer.

"Absurd thing, isn't it?" I said, circling the Iron Throne curiously. "Who would want to sit on this?"

"Any ambitious man, I'd expect." Came the automatic response.

"And you?" I asked curiously, as a strange expression spread on his face. It seemed pained, but also smug.

"I've sat on it, before." Jaime said. "It was quite warm."

"Warm?" I blurted out.

"It was quite strange. You would expect steel to be cold." Jaime said, gazing at the Iron Throne.

I felt a thrum of power from it, the same thrum I got from Ned's great sword, Ice.

"This was made from dragon flames, yes?" I asked.

"Forged from the swords of Aegon's many enemies, with the help of Balerion the Blackdread's flames. The hammering took fifty nine days." Jaime supplied.

I looked at the throne with a bit more intensity. "Dragon flame is magical in nature. Perhaps the metal was infused with some of it."

"Perhaps." Jaime said and left it at that.

A long silence passed.

"You blame me, don't you." I stated.

Jaime looked at me.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jaime said smoothly, with barely a hint of agitation in his tone of voice.

"I can see it in your eyes." I said. "You're angry at me for getting the former Queen Cersei punished."

Jaime flinched at the namedrop.

"I am angry." Jaime found himself admitting. "Not at you."

Now I was confused.

"At who, then?" I asked, feeling bewilderment. "Lord Stark, or the King?"

"I don't disagree with the ruling." Jaime said quietly. "It was a light punishment, all things considered. Our precious King Robert could have had her executed. Lord Stark's son was attacked, and Lord Stark, too, held back. I know my Lord Father, Tywin, wouldn't have."

"What would your father have done?" I asked.

"Have you ever listened to The Rains of Castamere?" Jaime asked.

I nodded, not sure where he was going with this.

"My father obliterated the House Reyne of Castamere when they rebelled against my grandfather, Tytos Lannister, who was perceived as weak. He marched against the upstart and put Castamere to the torch, and killed every last Reyne there was in short order." Jaime explained.

I made an 'oh' of understanding, though the idea of slaughtering whole families like that rubbed me the wrong way.

"Yet now the rains weep over his hall, and not a soul to hear." I quoted.

"Exactly." Jaime nodded and was silent for a bit, no doubt recalling childhood memories.

"Cersei was all but proven guilty." He admitted honestly. "A trial by combat was never going to work. Not with you as an opponent. Or even Lord Stark."

He seemed defeated, somehow. All that confidence I'd seen at Winterfell— in spite of his defeat at my hands— was gone; replaced by what I could only assume was a great depression.

It reminded me of me, in the first few weeks I had been here. All I could think of was.. Daphne.

Wait... Could Balthazar have been right this whole time?

I looked at Jaime again.

What were the chances? Should I even say anything?

I opened my mouth, but my attention switched to a duo of men entering from the doorway Lord Stark had went through. The first was a short man of slender build, in his thirties, or nearing them at the very least.

He had sharp features, a pointed beard on his chin, and dark hair with threads of grey running through it, with grey-green eyes.

The other man was plump, effeminate looking, completely bald, and wore fine silks in an outrageous blend of light purple and orange.

The two of them passed me by, casting surreptitious glances at my exposed right arm, before stopping entirely to turn to me. Well, the fat bald one stopped. The other one just kept going.

"You are the one they call Harry, are you not?" The bald man asked, stuffing each hand in the other's sleeve.

"The arm gave me away, huh?" I gave an insincere smile, and the man replied in kind. "And, you are...?"

"Oh, forgive me, where are my manners?" Varys spoke genially and extended his left hand. "My name is Varys."

The Master of Whispers, also known as The Spider.

I took his hand in my own and shook it firmly.

"My right arm isn't dangerous, Lord Varys." I said reproachfully.

"My apologies." He went on, so formal and genial it was painful to behold. "An instinctual reaction, on my part. I have seen many of those who have become afflicted with the grayscale."

"Well, my arm isn't affected by grayscale." I said.

"Indeed. Harry of the Blackscale, they call you. I have heard the little birds sing of your deeds from the North and the East." Varys smiled beatifically. "I, too, have been a victim of a practitioner of magic, so I can sympathize."

I frowned at his words. Was he already onto me?

"I didn't know that." I answered honestly. "What did the practi— never mind. That was insensitive of me. I apologize, Lord Varys."

"Think nothing of it." Varys said simply, clamming up on the matter. "And, I am not a Lord. Simply Varys."

I nodded.

That's when Ned came in the throne room once more, looking irritated and disgruntled. I heard the jangling noises of a chain as a decrepit old man came out of the doorway, slowly making his way to the exit.

Sheesh, that guy's life must be miserable, having to go everywhere so slowly. It was a wonder he'd even survived this long in a world like this. From what I've been able to glean from Maester Luwin's book collection, medical science here didn't exist.

Or, at least, it didn't exist in the way I had seen it in my home world. Honestly, over ninety percent of the Maester's remedies were absolute bullshit— placebos, at best; incredibly dangerous, at worst. It was appalling, that I, a sixteen year old battle mage, was able to heal better than men who dedicate years of their life to that particular path.

"Come, Harry." Ned said without breaking his stride.

I stared at him for a moment, before turning to the Jaime and the Spider.

"Good day, Ser Jaime, Varys." I gave a quick nod and hurried after Ned. "Maybe we can spar some time, Ser Jaime?" I called out.

I heard a loud call of "Perhaps!" as the large doors closed behind us.

A few minutes passed as I followed Lord Stark through the maze of the Red Keep, on our way to the Tower of the Hand.

"Meeting go well?" I tried.

"Just the opposite, actually." Ned said flatly wiping at his sweaty forehead as we turned a corner.

"That bad on the first day?" I asked.

Ned looked like he wanted to groan.

"Worse." He grunted out as we reached the Tower of the Hand, where Ned's household guards were waiting. They greeted him with a short bow and stepped aside, allowing us entry.

We ascended the stairs, the both of us in quiet contemplation— or maybe Lord Stark was just too tired to hold a conversation while ascending these endless staircases.

Eventually we reached the small hall, where Jon was busy chasing Arya around. Ghost was flicking his tail at Nymeria's nose while Sansa was combing Lady's fur.

With a burst of energy I had not expected from the older man, Ned snatched Arya and lugged her over his shoulder while Jon laughed at her new predicament.

"Put me down!" She protested and Jon smiled wide as their father set her back down, ruffling her hair.

I gave a sad smile at the unfolding scene before me.

I missed Sirius.

And Daphne.


	15. Spy Game?

Bit of a serious A/N

You know, I've noticed a trend of these HP/GoT or HP/aSoIaF "crossovers". Protagonist is obviously Harry— or, is he, really?

Well let's observe these. Usually this character is born in the Stark, Baratheon, Targaryen, Lannister families with a name like Harrison, Hardiven, Haraldr, etc.

But, I don't mind that. Sure, the name has to fit in the era/universe. I get that.

What's strange here is that these characters have little, to no magic; what magic they _do_ have is about as useful as tits on a bull. Honestly, with the exception of stories like "The Wizard of Harrenhal" and "The Black Prince", the protagonist has NOTHING to do with the HP world. The magic he exhibits is banal, on the same level as other sorcerers in aSoIaF. No where near the weakest HP wizard.

To be honest, you could name this protagonist anything you like, in the Game of Thrones section and it would be considered an OC. Instead these people slap the name Hardiven/Harrison (but please, call me Harry), and try to pass it off as an actual crossover, probably to get more reviews.

My question is: is this considered good behavior?

My personal opinion is that it's a load of shit.

What're your thoughts?

 **oooooooooo  
A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 15: Spy Game?**

"But, I'm ready, Harry!" Jon protested one night during training.

"No, you're not." I shook my head and stifled another eye roll.

He was so exasperating, at times.

We had been in King's Landing for almost a month, now. I managed to apply the Bubble-Head Charm to Lord Ned, and the other two direwolves, Nymeria and Lady, who seemed to take a shine to me after I'd erased their discomfort.

Not that they didn't like me, before; they simply grew to like me even more.

Lord Stark was busy preparing some tourney being held by the King in his name— though he seemed quite angry on the matter.

Apparently, the Crown was six million gold dragons in debt— three million to the Iron Bank, whom I figured was the financial powerhouse of this world— and another three million to Tywin Lannister.

Obviously, Eddard seemed leery of borrowing from the guy who they had grievously insulted by punishing his daughter for her actions at Winterfell. The validity of the punishment had no meaning to the man, from what I was led to believe.

Hell, from the rumors and stories I've managed to glean from the fellow guards, Jaime's account of what happened to the House Reyne, and a few offhand comments, Tywin Lannister was the most dangerous man on the continent due to his wealth, and his willingness to go any distance to secure his family's position.

Obviously, chopping off Cersei's hand weakened their position. True, Tommen was now the Heir to the Iron Throne, meaning his family's position in King's Landing was still secure, but an insult had been dealt, wittingly or otherwise.

Hence, Eddard's reluctance of even broaching the subject of money.

How did I know so much of the subject?

Well, my dear friend, the answer is pretty simple: shameless eavesdropping whilst under a Disillusionment Charm!

"But I've gained enough control!" Jon's protests brought me back to reality.

"You haven't." I said with a shake of my head. "Trust me on this. You're progressing at a rapid pace, but you still lack the force and the speed with which you gather your energy."

Jon bristled at the criticism and opened his mouth to reply.

I beat him to it, pointing my hand at his form, palm facing his body.

Lightning answered my call, swirling, writhing and coalescing around the center of my palm, flying out as a concentrated ball of energy which he dodged on pure instinct.

"What are you—" But that was as far as Jon got before he had to leap into a forward roll to avoid another ball.

Jon mirrored my initial move and concentrated his power. He got a small, blue ember going before I slammed my fist in his stomach, taking the air out of his lungs and doubling him over.

He fell to his knees as he coughed and wheezed, trying his best to fill his lungs with the air he had lost, to no avail. He raised his head, only to find himself face to face with my Lightning charged palm, merely inches from his face.

A few seconds later, I backed away and clenched my palm, a small shockwave rattling our surroundings— though no sound exited the room we had been using for training.

"As I've said, Jon." I bit out harshly as the fellow teen slowly regained his breath and composure. "You are _not_ ready to fight with your power in a pitched battle. The time it would take you to get a shot off, anyone would have cleaved your head off of your shoulders."

Jon tried to apologize, but it came out half strangled.

I conjured a cup and filled it with water, handing it to the boy, who took the proffered drink and took a heavy swig.

"Thank you." Jon finally managed to say.

I nodded in acknowledgement, before addressing the issue. "Sorry for the demonstration. I know you're pretty stubborn, and this is the only way I figured would convince you."

Jon was silent for a long moment.

"S'all right." He said finally.

I smiled.

"It just takes time. We've only been at this for about a couple of weeks, now; or, is it three weeks?" I said and pointed my palm at the wall beside me. Lightning flew out and smashed against the red brick, the current strong enough to make the bricks glow red with heat.

It was good to reach near the level of strength I possessed before being flung to this dimension— though it took some time, a lot of brainstorming, and many exhausting sessions of magic control in order to get my magic to compress itself to the levels I required.

Jon stared in awe at the intensity of the attack, his anger replaced by a surging excitement— heh, if only he knew how powerful I really was. _Then_ , he'd be excited.

"You'll be able to reach that level in a year or two." I promised, but frowned. "But you _have_ to work at it. It's not something you hop into battle with and improvise as you go along. You have to undergo strict training in channeling your power. You don't want to end up killing the wrong people in a fight. Imagine if you hit Arya or Sansa with your fire."

Jon grimaced and deflated immediately, his face turning solemn.

"Do you really want something like that to happen?" I prodded.

It was a little mean on my part to guilt trip the guy, but it was important to stress the sheer danger he could be to those around him if he lacked the necessary control.

Jon nodded and sighed.

"I understand, Harry." He said.

I clapped him on the back. "Good. Go get some rest. And don't forget—"

"Yes, meditate every night." Jon said, exasperation bleeding through his serious visage. "You say that every time we finish training."

"If I didn't say it, you'd probably skip it." I grinned unrepentantly. "Too eager to sleep, you are."

"May be." Jon smiled back, before leaving the room and heading to the guard's quarters.

With a wave of my wand, I removed the Silencing and Obscuring spells I've had on the door, walls and windows. It wouldn't do to have a servant, or worse yet, a spy, see what we're doing and start blabbing to whoever was willing to pay him/her coin.

I tapped myself on the head with my wand, feeling the cold trickles of magic trailing over my body, connecting together and shielding my presence from the naked eye, before exiting the room.

Another wave and my footfalls turned silent.

I wandered through the Red Keep's hallways, moonlight filtering through the many windows, giving the place an ethereal look.

I smiled.

It reminded me of nights spent wandering the corridors of Hogwarts Castle.

Has it really been months since then?

I could still remember it all as if it were yesterday. I wondered what I'd see if I looked into the Mirror of Erised now. Would it be my parents again? Would I see my home world? Would I only see Daphne and Sirius?

Or, was it a mix of all three?

Questions I might never receive an answer for.

I stopped moving as I heard the clinking of boots against the cold stone floor. A few seconds later, one of the Red Keep's servants appeared gradually into view. His eyes flitted wildly to every nearby door, as if he expected someone to catch him in whatever he was doing.

So, naturally, I followed him.

A few minutes passed as we went from one side of the Red Keep to its northernmost tower, where the Spider, Varys, was waiting for him.

I suppressed the shock— though, considering this guy was the spymaster of this kingdom, I shouldn't have been surprised at all— and followed them into a side room, making sure to enter as quickly as I could before they closed the door.

With a snap, the door was shut, and then locked.

"I came as fast as I could without arousing suspicion, Lord Varys." The man said hurriedly.

"And?" Varys intoned softly.

"It is done." He said. "The message has been delivered to the docks. I've secured its passage to Pentos where your contact's men are prepared to receive it, as ordered."

Pentos? That was one of the Free Cities, on western edge of Essos. Also, what kind of message would require travel by boat? Perhaps the ravens could be intercepted, somehow?

"Good." Varys said. "You have done well."

"Anything to have Targaryen rule back in these lands." The man said, bowing his head.

"Quite." Varys spoke, looking around to make sure no one was listening in, before giving the servant a piercing gaze. "Though, I would urge you to not speak of them. However secure I can make our conversations, I am not without faults."

The servant wilted.

"You're right, my Lord." He bowed his head. "I apologize."

"No harm done, my good man." Varys said genially, clapping the man on the shoulder firmly, once, before backing off. "Now, I believe you have a few more tasks to attend to?"

"Yes, of course." The servant gave one more bow before leaving quietly, closing the door behind him.

Varys tsk-ed, before homing on my exact location.

"You thought I wouldn't notice your presence, didn't you?" Varys spoke, just as softly, but there was a dangerous edge to it all. "Show yourself."

I stayed quiet, even as he slowly approached my location.

He couldn't quite see me, but he must have detected my presence, somehow.

Hm. No sense in drawing this out.

" _Stupefy."_ It came out as a whisper, and it was all the warning Varys had before a bright red light shot into his form, knocking him into the world of unconsciousness with a loud thud.

" _Close one."_ Erebus whispered to me. " _You must go before anyone finds him. That servant was still nearby. He might have heard—"_

The door slammed open, revealing the same servant from before; only, this time, he looked alarmed, which turned to panic when he laid his eyes on the unconscious Varys. He swiveled his head wildly, trying to find whoever did this, but saw nothing.

I wisely kept my calm and made my escape, even as the servant dragged the unconscious Varys to his personal chambers and stood guard.

I inched away slowly, until I reached a far enough distance and ran for it, making my way back to the Tower of the Hand.

So Varys was a Targaryen loyalist?

That made no sense. In the meetings I had been snooping on, Varys had never hinted towards such things— he even went as far as to suggest assassins be sent to Daenerys Targaryen's wedding with the warlord, Khal Drogo; I recognized the name from one of the King's conversations with Ned.

Perhaps it was all part of his cover? Or maybe he didn't want all of his eggs in one basket. That way, he could be sure of his position in both this rule, and whatever may come in the future.

Wait.

I stopped suddenly, feeling something brushing against the edge of my senses.

 _§What was that?§_ Balthazar's hiss came out.

 _§You felt it too?_ _§_ I hissed right back.

" _I, as well."_ Erebus intoned from his sheath.

"What do you think that was?" I asked and closed my eyes. Tendrils of Lightning leapt out of my body, writhing and swirling around me, before launching themselves outwards.

I opened my eyes and followed the trail, which led me to a door to the right. I grasped the handle and pulled. It didn't open. I tried some force.

Nothing.

"Locked." I murmured and brought my wand back out. " _Alohomora._ "

With a click, the door was open.

I smiled slightly to myself and pushed it open, the hinges creaking loudly, evidence of the door's disuse over the years.

There was a set of stairs leading down into pitch blackness. I went inside, closing the door behind me and removing the Disillusionment Charm, and locking the door behind me.

" _Lumos!_ "

A bright white ball of light emerged from my wand, illuminating the stairway once more. I waited for my eyes to adjust, before making my way down.

I pinched my nose a few times in order to avert a sneeze.

"Too dusty in here." I murmured in irritation as I finally reached the bottom. It appeared to be a dusty, damp cellar.

"What's so special about this place?" I wondered as I took a few steps in, focusing my power once more. It led me further in, to one of the many side doors lining the walls— though, this one was much larger than the rest.

I understood why when I went inside.

"Wow."

Various dragon skulls were packed tightly into the large side room. The first few were really small, no larger than a cat's, but as I moved further and further, they got bigger and bigger.

 _§These are the dragon skulls which were displayed in the throne room during the Targaryen Dynasty.§_ Balthazar supplied as we reached the final one— an absurdly huge skull to say the least.

"How big was the dragon?" I worked out the math in my head. "From the sketches in the books I've read, the dragons looked eerily similar to the Hungarian Horntail I'd tangled with a year ago during that stupid Triwizard Tournament. But this..."

It was unbelievable.

" _Agreed."_ Erebus wheezed out. " _It seems as if the tales of Balerion the Black Dread were not embellished in any way."_

"Just look at its skull!" I breathed, running my hand across the skull's snout. "Four— no, at least five. At least five times larger than a Horntail's!"

" _Then, it would be logical to assume the rest of its body would have been proportionately larger, had the dragon still been alive."_ Erebus intoned logically.

I stayed silent for a few moments, absorbing the words and the absurdity of it all.

"It took dozens of wizards collectively using stunners to subdue the dragons from home." I said slowly. "Yet these Targaryens rode them with ease on their own. No spells, no large groups of people..."

"Truly curious." A voice came from behind me, startling me out of my reverie.

I spun quickly, a round house kick flying out and hitting nothing but air as I lost my balance and fell on my ass. I quickly regained my bearings and got back to my feet, finding myself face to face with a ghost.

"Even more curious." The specter continued as it floated around me. It was a tall, broad shouldered, powerfully built man. His hair was short-cut and silver-gold, going over a steel circlet set with square-cut rubies which framed his forehead. More striking, were his eyes, a deep purple color that shook me with its vibrancy.

Even in death, this man looked regal in his black scaled armor.

"You can see me." The ghost stated simply. "In the centuries I've been dead, no one has ever detected my presence— not until you."

I remained quiet for a few moments, gathering my thoughts before finally speaking.

"You're a Targaryen, aren't you? The hair and the eyes..."

"I am." The man smiled slightly. "They called me Aegon the First of His Name."

I looked at the largest dragon skull again, before looking back at the specter. "Aegon the Conqueror?"

"Yes." The specter— Aegon— confirmed without any heat. "The Conqueror. There wasn't all that much to conquer. Some skirmishes here, and there." Aegon floated to the largest skull and ran his hand over the snout, just like I did. "My dear Balerion did most of the work. Vhagar and Meraxes, too."

"Not much to conquer?" I repeated.

"I suppose it does sound somewhat arrogant on my part." Aegon smiled, though it was not malicious in nature. "I had planned my invasion quite well, and with my dragons, no army stood a chance against us."

"True." I allowed. "With dragons the size of several large homes, you could have conquered the whole world."

"One continent was enough for me." Aegon stated, but grimaced. "Though, with recent events... Orys would be rolling in his grave at what his descendant has done to our legacies."

"Orys?" I repeated.

"Aye." Aegon said, floating around the room. "My half-brother, Orys Baratheon."

Ah, it all clicked together.

"Yes, Robert's Rebellion." Aegon said. "What our descendants have been reduced to..."

I nodded wordlessly.

One was a fat king who constantly whored and was drinking himself into an early grave, and the other was known to be an insane old man, burning his subjects alive with wildfire— often times mistakenly believing them to be traitors to his rule.

"The Baratheons have fallen far, indeed, despite it being a kingly House, now." Aegon continued grimly. "And my own family... All that's left of our fire are two small embers halfway across the world... Surrounded by darkness and enemies waiting for their opportunity to end my line, once and for all."

No wonder this guy was a ghost, with heavy thoughts like these lingering in his ghost mind.

"Such is the way of life." I said softly, uncompromising even Aegon leveled his glare on me. The glare faded quickly at the sight of my unflinching gaze. "Whoever rises to the top will eventually fall down, and hard."

"You are right, of course." Aegon admitted, before focusing his attention on me. "You are a powerful one."

I gave the man a sidelong glance as I inspected one of the medium sized dragon skulls.

"What gave you that impression?" I spoke easily as I dusted my hands off and faced the specter.

"You can see me, for one." Aegon had a good point. "It's more than that; I can feel the power rolling off of you in waves. I had been slowly fading into oblivion over the last fifty years— at least until around a number of months ago, in which time I began to regain a measure of form in this un-life."

That was about the time I had arrived to this realm.

So, I strengthened all of the ghosts just by arriving into this realm?

Did my magic inject into the world around me, somehow?

I pinched the bridge of my nose in irritation. If ghosts regained enough strength to resume visible form, then how much stronger are the Others, or the Red Priests? Or the shadow binders?

"I don't doubt that you could possibly defeat my Balerion in combat." Aegon spoke. "With power like that... How did you acquire such strength?"

"..." I said nothing for a few moments. "I was born with magic, and have been taught by mages much older than I. As for my Lightning... I'm afraid that's a bit of a long story."

Aegon the Ghost gestured at himself in a self-deprecating move and a disarming smile. "I have plenty of time."

I smirked back.

This guy wasn't half bad.

So I told him everything.

I told him of a young boy entering a wondrous society filled with all manner of sorcery and wonder. I spoke of trolls, dragons, wyverns, wyrms, nundus, merfolk, elves, goblins, and other creatures. I spoke of a magical castle with moving staircases, ghosts like him, talking portraits, and endless shortcuts and hallways.

I spoke of my teachers, old and wise mages who were well versed in their particular branch of magic. I told him of purebloods and mudbloods.

I spoke of Dumbledore.

And I spoke of Voldemort.

I spoke of the rise of dark forces even greater than the wizard who had killed my parents— and many others; Demons, ruled by their Emperor Mundus, who I had fought between realms.

Mundus, who was the reason why I was stranded on this world.

I spoke of the higher powers of this world taking notice of me.

"The Red Priests of R'hlorr." Aegon said, a touch of familiarity in his tone. "I'm familiar with their religion."

I nodded, remembering the visions the Raven had shown me.

"Obsessed with fire, they were." Aegon continued, oblivious to my thoughts. "They believed me to be one of R'hlorr's avatars because of my dragons."

"Did they, now?" I asked noncommittally. "Why?"

"Over a hundred years before my Conquest of Westeros." Aegon explained. "The Doom fell on Valyria."

"I read about that." I interjected before he could continue. "No one seems to know what the Doom really was."

"I don't, either." Aegon added to that, smiling patiently. "What I do know, my father told me. My great-great-great-grandmother, Daenys Targaryen was a greenseer. We called her Daenys the Dreamer, as her dreams always seemed to come true."

I nodded.

"She had a powerful, prophetic dream, depicting the destruction of Valyria, my family's previous, ruined home. Her father, Lord Aenar, decided to move our family and all of our belongings to the Island of Dragonstone, as well as five dragons." Aegon said.

"Twelve years later, the Doom fell on Valyria, and House Targaryen was the only dragon riding family left." Aegon said. "Only a few Houses remained carrying the blood of old Valyria. Houses Celtigar and Velaryon, two houses with close ties to ours, though they have both fallen on hard times as well; but, I digress."

"With my rise to power came the attention of the people, both from within Westeros and without." Aegon said. "The followers of R'hlorr claimed that I was a devout follower of their religion."

He scoffed. It looked rather amusing on a ghost. "The people overseas, of course, believed every word. How else would I be able to control fire breathing dragons if I was not a follower of the religion which worshipped fire?"

I nodded. "The simple-minded do tend to believe whatever sounds simple enough."

"All too true." Aegon said, smiling a little vindictively as he spoke further. "I quickly corrected their mistake by riding over to a few of their great temples and burning them to the ground, much like I did with Harrenhal. The fool priests did not bother me again— I merely had to deal with the followers of the Seven in Westeros."

"Ah, yes." I said with a grimace. That religion reminded me too much of Christianity— way too many ceremonies, rules, and a hatred of anything different. "The Seven who are One. A farce."

"Agreed." Aegon nodded. "A religion installed by the invaders from Andalos, attacking the sacred weirwood trees of the Children."

I gave him a double take. I hadn't read about Valyrians following the Old Gods or knowing anything about the Children, in particular. I had seen bits and pieces of them, when I was in the void.

An image of children waving at me flashed through my mind.

"Oh, yes." Aegon smiled slightly. "Valyrians were aware of the existence of the Children. Written accounts of the many diviners using dragonglass candles— I'm afraid I did not possess the talent for it— who have seen the Children. And... The Others. Creatures borne of ice and death."

I started a little, at that.

"It was part of the reason why my son, Maegor, built the Dragonpit in the first place." Aegon said. "The main reason, obviously, was to weaken the hold of the Faith of the Seven over my family's Kingdom. It served another purpose, of course. We meant to breed the dragons, in case the Others appeared once more and attempted to kill us all."

"The history books never mentioned that— not even Maesters." I said, remembering all of times I questioned Maester Luwin on magic, Targaryens, and the Others.

"Knowledge is lost, over time." Aegon said, his tone of voice going sad. "An important speech someone says is written down. Later it is rewritten. Then it is misquoted. Then, the passage is barely even mentioned as the years pass, and the old books become unreadable. I have seen many works disappear over the years— a true shame."

"You liked to read?" I asked suddenly.

Aegon nodded. "I was never a social person. The only people I wished to spend time with were my siblings. Visenya, Rhaenys, and my half-brother, Orys. When they were busy, I either trained with my dragons, or read books."

"Where was I? Oh, yes." Aegon smiled. "The Children of the Forest and the Others. I knew of their existence. So did my son, who built the Dragonpit for our dragons to breed and grow in numbers. If he knew that the enclosed, tight space would hinder our dragons rather that strengthen them, he would have gone a very different route."

"Now, there are no dragons left." Aegon said grimly. "Without one of their mortal enemies, the Others have no challengers— except, maybe, you. Harry of House Potter."

"You know my name?" I said, startled.

"Indeed." Aegon confirmed, a hint of amusement in his tone of voice. "I hear the servants of this castle all the time. Harry of House Potter. The Blackscale." He gestured to my right, scaled arm. "An interesting sight, your arm. The rumors are running wild, of course, but the most popular one involves you, a warlock, a dwarf, a chicken, and a dozen eunuchs."

"Uh..." I said eloquently.

How does anyone even respond to anything like that?

We ended up talking well into the night.


	16. Mountain Lackluster

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 15: Mountain Lackluster**

A week after my conversation with Aegon the First, the tourney began. With warriors, knights and fighters of every walk of life began to fall in line to sign up; I pondered why I was even doing this.

 _§Because you're bored.§_ Balthazar sniped.

I gave an absent minded nod as I finally reached one of the tellers, a man in his twenties, with a bald head and missing two of his front teeth. He took one look at me and paled at the sight.

Hm.

Must be the arm.

"You all right, there?" I asked curiously.

"Your— your arm!" The teller stuttered.

"Yeah. What about it?" I asked nonchalantly, rolling my eyes at a reaction I had grown quite used to.

"It—It's covered with black scales!" He exclaimed dramatically.

I stopped for a few seconds to stare at the man in absolute boredom, in the hopes of conveying how silly this man sounded, right now.

"You must be new here." A man said from behind me. I turned to see a somewhat rotund man in both armor and a red robe of sorts. It honestly looked so worn I was even surprised he still wore it.

It almost looked like he was a... Red priest of R'hlorr?

They were here? Already?

Wait, no.

My moment of panic ended when I realized who this man was. One of the King's drinking friends.

"Thoros of Myr, was it?" I greeted with a nod. "My apologies for holding up the line like this."

"Blackscale." He greeted back with an easy grin. "It's all right." Then, he turned to the teller. "This is Harry Potter of the Blackscale. You would be quick in allowing him entry in this tournament, unless you wish to suffer his ire— and all of ours, as well."

"I— That is to say— I mean." He quailed when he realized that almost everybody was now staring at him angrily for stopping the line.

Visibly composing himself, the teller finally said. "Which competition do you choose to sign up for, Ser?"

"Melee, and I'm not a knight. I'm just another fighter." I said simply and the teller began to jot things down hurriedly.

"No jousting or archery?" Thoros asked from behind me, looking curious at the choice.

"I've never fought on horseback, and I've never been much good with a bow." It was a lie. I've never even touched a bow to know if I was good or not. "But, put me in direct, close range combat and I will never lose."

"Bold claim, Blackscale. However, can you back it up?" Thoros said, and many others behind him either grunted or scoffed at me— though their eyes lingered on my arm for a moment before shaking whatever chill they had felt off.

"Done." The teller said, giving me a quick, embarrassed nod, before looking ahead of me. "Next competitor, please!"

I absently listened to the crowd's chatter as I slowly made my way to the melee fighting ring. The tournament grounds were situated a few hour's journey from the city in a large clearing that was about three miles across.

In this clearing, two different areas had been prepared. The first was the melee field, a round, circular area of ground, grass and gravel, which I currently stood in. Wooden bleachers surrounded me from all sides, and at the very center of the large clearing, between the jousting and melee fields, there was the Royal box— a two story box in which the King and his children sat, as well as the various nobles he had invited.

The other field was for both jousting, archery, and other assorted competitions such as knife throwing, wrestling, what have you.

I didn't really bother figuring it all out, to be brutally honest. I cared nothing for riding on horseback while smacking someone with a long wooden stick. As for the archery competition, what good would a bow do me if I could simply fire bolts of Lightning whenever I wanted?

Things to consider.

"—Crowds have already gathered? So many." I heard a familiar voice from my right as the voice strengthened, overwhelming the endless chatter of my fellow contestants and the crowd itself.

I turned to see Jory, standing next to me and looking bemused.

"I thought Jon was going to enter." He said with a smile.

I suppressed a wince and addressed my Captain.

"We made a bet on it." I said, smiling back and clasping the man's arm for a moment. "He lost, so I get to compete in his stead."

Jory snorted in amusement. "What was the bet?"

"Long story. It would probably take too long to tell, and—" I smiled, pointing at the King and his court, who had begun to take their seats as the large ring became packed. "—It's about to start."

In actuality, the story was pretty short— and anything but fun.

A few nights before today, Jon and I had learned that he was immune to fire. Not just his own fire, but all fire, everywhere. He stuck his hand in a brazier and nothing happened. _Incendio_ also had no effect on him.. Now, sure, that might be an offshoot of his new power, but— and here's the interesting part— he couldn't even allow his body to be hurt by fire.

Now, what exactly does that mean?

As you may or may not have known, I had always been capable of using my own Lightning to damage myself in some fashion, to cauterize my own wounds, more often than not; and, if an outside source of electricity impacted my form, it would hurt— unless I ate it, of course.

Jon couldn't, and that was the strange part of it all.

At first I thought it was simply a mental issue— perhaps his mind was set on keeping his body safe from any flame. However, after a few hours of stressful testing and woolgathering, Jon admitted that he had never been burned in his life, strangely enough.

On its own, that admission might have been considered slightly strange, but still acceptable. It was in the realm of possibility, after all. Some people spent their whole lives without any burns.

However, the fact that Jon took a burning carpet and didn't feel anything but gentle warmth from it told another story entirely. I conferred with Aegon the First, and even had Jon meet him to confirm it.

It was quite the strange test. Aegon had circled the fellow teen, examined his facial features, eyes and pushed his fingers against Jon's chest, before finally announcing his result.

Jon was of Targaryen descent.

"The blood is strong in you." Aegon had said to Jon's dawning look of realization and horror. "It sings to me."

This begged the question: just who was the mother? It couldn't have been Elia Martell, as she was not pure Targaryen. Perhaps it was the Mad King's wife? No, that was too farfetched, and quite impossible, as Ned was a young man fighting a war, at the time, and had never even met Rhaella Targaryen.

For obvious reasons, it wasn't the Stormborn girl, either.

Was there some unknown Targaryen that Jon and I did not know about?

Aegon, for his part, had shed some light on the situation.

"Prince Rhaegar." He said, nodding to himself as he gazed upon Jon once more. "Yes, now that I think of it, the similarities are strong between the two of you. You have his lean figure. I can see him in you."

"No." Jon shook his head. "Impossible. Eddard Stark is my father."

"Perhaps..." Aegon the Conqueror allowed, still circling Jon. "I can only reveal to you what my own knowledge consists of, young dragon wolf."

Aegon continued, not noticing Jon mouthing the words "dragon wolf" in sheer disbelief. "Before, and during the war called Robert's Rebellion, Rhaegar and his father the King had been obsessed with magic, and prophecy."

Prophecy. _Of fucking course,_ it was prophecy.

"Oh boy." I said back then, shaking my head in dismay. "Here we go."

"I do not know of its full contents, but there was a prediction made concerning a prince that was promised to combat the forces of darkness." Aegon said slowly. "The prophecy also spoke of how his song was that of ice and fire."

Now, _those_ particular words held meaning to me. There was only one other person who had used those exact words; the three eyed Raven I had spoken with while communing with the heart tree in Winterfell's Godswood.

"I knew Rhaegar was quite set on a certain woman from the Stark family— Lyanna, her name was?" Aegon continued. "Perhaps you are the result."

"My aunt Lyanna." Jon choked, as he was trouble even accepting the idea of it all. "She was _kidnapped_ by Rhaegar. That's what everyone says! There was no way she would've allowed..."

"Rhaegar was unstable in his last days." Aegon said gently, yet uncompromisingly. "He was willing to do whatever it took to fulfill that prophecy, even if she was not."

Jon shut his mouth and shook his head, looking even more furious at the revelations and the sudden turn his life had taken, now.

Unsurprisingly, he ended up responding by hiding away, not signing up for any of the tournament competitions, to the confusion of his immediate family and friends— except me.

Hence the little play I was putting up for everyone.

I doubted King Robert "All Targaryens Must Die" Baratheon would appreciate such news being bandied about in his face; best to keep suspicion off of everybody.

I glanced at some men on horseback that had come with us, and down at the blunted blade I had picked up beforehand, Erebus shrunk and left in one of my pockets; the melee required you to have a blunted blade so you didn't kill all of the competition.

Still, accidents happened and some people died; but, with the blades blunted, the fatalities were minimized.

The King's voice grabbed all of our attention as he began greeting the Lords, Ladies and whoever else managed to find their way here.

"This tourney's in honor of Ned Stark taking over as my hand!" He gestured grandly at the man in question, who seemed busy trying to avoid everyone's gaze. Next to him, Sansa and Arya sat, waving at me and Jory beside me.

We waved back with a smile.

"The melee's first!" He shouted unnecessarily, but it seemed to get the crowds in the bleachers going, as they all cheered. I felt my pulse rise, much like it did before any game of Quidditch or a good fight.

"Fight for the honor of your families, or rather the money involved!" A lot of people laughed at this. "Most importantly of all, fight well for your King!"

The horns blasted as we all took our positions at the edge of the large circular field. When the horns would boom again, we were supposed to run forward twenty paces into the center of the circle, by which time we would all attack each other.

I took the time to look around and see who had actually come for this melee. Thoros in his priestly robe and armor combo, with his...flaming sword?

Heh. Nice!

"Aye." Jory smiled, looking in the same direction I was. "I remember that sight when we stormed the castle at Pyke. Thoros was the first in with that sword of his. I'll remember it until the day I die."

I grunted in reply, gazing at the others.

There were a few mounted riders, some dual wielding swords, a few with great swords, and a giant of man. He wasn't as tall as Hagrid, but I would have said the man was eight feet tall, bulky and imposing in his heavy armor, wielding a greatsword easily in one hand.

Who—

The horns boomed for the second time, signaling the start of the melee. There was no time for me to wonder any longer, as we all dashed to the center of the arena.

Shouting, grunting, and the sound of blades clashing erupted all around me as I ducked under a sword thrust, grabbed the offender's arm and used his own thrust's momentum to fling him into a man that had been attempting to sneak up on me.

The two flew back, entangling into each other and slamming into a small group of people who were exchanging strikes at a fast rate, bowling them over and drawing a laugh from the crowd.

Another man came, slashing left, and right, but I smacked his blade away contemptuously before smashing an uppercut into his chin, knocking him out instantly.

I heard a shout and looked around to see a flash of Jory downing a mounted knight with a few strikes before I was surrounded by men wearing Lannister colors, rushing me all at once.

I smirked and sheathed my sword, meeting their charge with my own— the best way to break envelopment is to puncture through it. Lightning surged into my muscles and nerve pathways throughout my body, and I used the energy to further my dash.

they tried to block my path by having men from outside reinforce the spot I was trying to escape from, but it didn't do them any good— I smashed through their line, swerving aside to avoid a blow from a rather sharp looking dagger one of the men I hadn't tackled had drawn.

An assassination attempt within the confines of a melee?

It made sense. They could simply claim I had died in all the confusion.

I repaid the man's attack by continuing my swerve to launch a spin kick which connected to the man's shoulder, cracking the bone and sending him flying to the middle of another fight in the melee, which earned him a few deep and painful cuts before he dropped into the land of unconsciousness.

"What else you got!" I shouted challengingly as I blocked a sword slash with my right arm, before grabbing onto it and pulling the attacker forward— another Lannister lackey— and landing a roundhouse punch into his face, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

The Lannister envelopment suddenly broke as a trio of mounted knights tore through the remainder of their line and they were forced to fend off the onrushing attackers that came from behind them.

"Heh." I allowed myself a smirk before I began to dispatch each of the Lannister men. Melee, this may have been, but these guys needed to pay.

"All right, Blackscale?" I heard Thoros' voice from the side as he clashed blades with a Lannister man and elbowing him in the face. "I saw the envelopment and convinced a few of the old boys to break through it."

I smiled back as I grabbed a sword mid-thrust and pushed hard, smashing its pommel against my attacker's face, who dropped with a loud moan of pain which joined the general cries of battle and the crowd's cheer. "Much appreciated!"

We cut down three others before breaking off to rejoin the rest of the melee. The Lightning in me writhed and roared as I drank in the noise, the smells and sights, dodging below a side swipe and rolling forward to avoid the follow up lunge, before spinning and lashing out with a sweeping kick that took my attacker off his feet.

A punch to the head, and the attacker was out of it. I quickly dusted myself off and took stock of my current situation and surroundings. I was a little dirty and scratched in places, but otherwise I was completely fine.

I could see Thoros tearing through a few Dornish men with his flaming sword, jeering and laughing as he did so. Nearby, the gigantic man was just smashing people aside like they were made of wet toilet paper.

I began to make my way to the both of them, almost negligently punching, kicking and elbowing my way through the raucous brawl that had erupted in between us all. A heavyset man grabbed me from behind and attempted to lift me in what I thought was going to be a suplex— only I didn't even let it get that far.

His attempt failed, as a continued stream of Lightning charged elbows to the face seemed to dissuade him of his notions— or of consciousness, really.

I was joined by Jory, who looked a bit worse for wear, but could still move easily.

"Do me a favor?" I asked as blocked a sword strike coming from Jory's back, before kneeing the offender in the stomach, causing him to fall to his knees and vomit uncontrollably. "Ugh. Disgusting!"

We moved away quickly; Jory parried a diagonal slash to the left and nimbly positioned himself so his foot reached in front of his attacker's, tripping him. Added with a push, the man found himself in a collision course with my clothesline, which sent him down to the unforgiving earth, his entire body spasming from the impact before he fell to darkness.

"What is it you would like?" Jory asked. "Because I'm in this to win the money."

"Oh, that's fine!" I laughed even as I grabbed a short sword with my scaled right hand and tore it out of my attacker's hand, before smacking him in the face with and pointing at the giant of man still tearing through the fighters around him with ease. "I want to fight the big guy."

"Gregor Clegane?" Jory asked, somewhat astonished. "You want to fight the Mountain, himself."

So, _this_ was the Mountain That Rode, huh?

Lord Lannister's mad dog. The man who raped the Martell Princess after killing her children. The man who supposedly pushed his brother's face against an open fire, disfiguring him permanently.

The levity and fun I had been feeling were replaced by scorn and disdain— and no small amount of anger.

"Yes." I said simply, finally drawing the blunted blade I had been provided with. "He's mine."

"Fair enough!" Jory didn't argue. "I'll keep the rest off your back, and try not to interfere with your fight."

I smiled slightly, before turning grim once more and brandishing my sword in Gregor's direction. "Thanks, Captain."

I didn't wait for his reply as I tore through men, left and right, smashing the flat of the blade against the back of their heads, which stunned them for a few moments, or even completely knocked them out.

I wasn't giving my strikes any precise aim; more simply, I was smashing hard in the general area before moving on. I heard Jory's shouts from behind me as I dodged past a surprised slash— and found myself face to face with the Mountain's fist.

I pushed against his fist, which allowed me to minimize whatever damage he was about to inflict on me; but, unsatisfied, Gregor slashed horizontally with his greatsword, in an attempt to cleave my head off of my shoulders.

I easily managed to duck underneath it, though I felt the vibration of the air around me, a sign of the man's true force. From it, I inferred that this man had not held back at all during this entire melee.

Knowing that the men around him were smaller, weaker, and less durable than him, Gregor still used his full force on them. Did he want the money from the melee that badly? Last I had checked, he was the head of House Clegane, a House that was quite rich thanks to aid from House Lannister.

Was it the glory and recognition? He had those, too.

Maybe, he loved the fight so badly that he never held back? It made sense, that was probably why he was called a mad dog, to begin with.

Still, if he wasn't holding back, I supposed I shouldn't be, either; not against a rapist and child murderer, anyway.

"Out of the way, runt." The man grunted irritably as he tried for a diagonal slash in an attempt to slash me from hip to collarbone. An attack so slow I simply stepped aside to avoid it. "I said, move!"

"I don't think so, Clegane." I said lightly as I danced around the man's attacks, the Lightning which coursed through my nerves increasing my perception so much it seemed as if the man moved at the speed of a particularly speedy snail.

"Stop running, damn you!" Gregor got angry, and his swings turned wild and frenzied as he tried harder and harder to kill me, though he found no ground. I peppered him with punches to the ribs, stomach, and crotch every time he overextended.

For every time he overreached, I smashed my blunted blade into his armored arm, denting it in and bruising the man underneath, which enraged him even further.

I faintly noticed that the sound of battle around us had ground to a halt, as the remainder of the melee simply watched our battle unfold. The crowd, on the other hand, seemed to be cheering, more loudly than ever, at the clash they were witnessing.

Teen versus Titan. Ant versus Giant. David versus Goliath.

Most of them seemed of the mind that the Mountain would win, as he always did against small opponents. They could not penetrate his armor, while he could simply weather their blows until they tired themselves out and were, then, vulnerable to his slow attacks.

But, a few, like the King Robert, like Ned Stark, like a certain white haired Lord Commander of the Kingsguard... They had other ideas.

After seeing me dispatch the Kingslayer, and Selmy with relative ease, the people in the know had a feeling about what was going to happen now.

"Nice one, Clegane!" I ducked underneath his sword, grabbing his outstretched hand and pulling him forward into my extended foot, tripping him and sending him face first into the dirt. I leapt back from the wild grab he made as he rose back up, spitting out sand and gravel as he charged me once more.

Dodge. Parry. Block. Parry. Dodge. "Almost had me, there! But not quite!"

"Shut _up!_ " Clegane roared, furious beyond measure.

"What's wrong, Clegane?" I laughed derisively as I backed away from a downward slash meant to cleave me vertically in two. "Can't you keep up with the big boys?"

He roared again and bull rushed me, though I easily avoided that by leaping to the side.

"What, can you only win a fight when you're killing babies and helpless mothers?" I smirked, though there was no humor in my voice, any longer. "Hold on. Let me do you a favor."

I stood still, held my blade high in the air, before sticking it into the dirt by my side. The crowd gasped, scoffed and jeered at the extremely arrogant move, while Clegane, himself, got even angrier, though he waited for me to say whatever I was about to say.

"No sword. You see?" I smiled in what I thought was an indulgent manner. "I mean, I don't know what else I can do to make this fight easier on you. You seem like you need every advantage you can scrounge up. Heh, who knew the Mountain was so dreadfully _weak..._?"

 _That_ seemed to do the trick, as the Mountain rushed me like the mad dog he was portrayed to be, his greatsword slashing down furiously. I heard a few ladies scream in horror at the sight and suppressed a smirk, as I responded by standing my ground, and simply lifting my right arm to intercept it.

There was a loud clang as his blade clashed against my scales, sending sparks out— but that was all. I had stopped his blade with my arm. Too shocked to even process what had just happened— let alone react to it— the Mountain couldn't even defend against the Lightning charged Breakdown Fist which slammed into his chin, shattering the bones and imparting enough force and momentum to sending flying a few feet backwards, while also liquefying his brain.

By the time the large man had smashed into the ground with a loud thud and the roars of the crowd hit the remainder of the melee participants, Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rode, was brain dead.

And then, the crowd erupted.


	17. Egg

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 17: Egg**

"I don't want to see anyone, right now." Jon's voice insisted from behind the door.

"Not even me?" I asked lightly.

Silence.

"You know I can open that door whenever I want, right?" I said in amusement. "If not by using my skills, then by pure force. I _am_ stronger than you, after all."

More silence. Maybe I had to sweeten the deal.

"Don't you want to hear what happened between me and the Mountain that Rides during the melee, Jon?"

Some silence, and then— _Click!_

The door opened, revealing Jon with his Brooding Face Patch 2.3™. Or, is it Patch 2.24? Hard to tell between the two, after all.

Ah, well.

"You fought the Mountain?" Jon said incredulously, his face morphing into that of astonishment before quickly switching back to brooding again.

I stifled an eye roll. "Can I come in, then?"

"...Sure. Sure." Jon stepped aside to let me in, closing the door behind him.

I pulled out my wand and slapped every privacy spell and intruder repellent charm I knew of, before pocketing it and clasping arms with who I considered to be my closest friend, at this point.

Months of bonding over training and travels does that to men— you can't help but trust the people you suffer with daily, because they know how it feels.

But it went beyond the general feel of camaraderie I had with Jory and the rest of the Stark household guard.

Jon and I were prophecy bound. We lived pretty crappy lives— sure, we were fed and clothed. There was a roof over our head, but there was a stigma against the both of us. The neighborhood I grew up in had always believed I was a bad egg and treated me as such.

Jon, with his bastard status, was treated much the same way, though never around Ned or his siblings— or cousins, I reminded myself.

The room we stood in was empty.

"What did you do in here, all day?" I stared out of the window, which overlooked King's Landing, showing a sky tinged with yellows, oranges and reds, the sign of a sunset.

"Just paced around, mostly." Jon replied. "Stared out the window a few times. Needed to think about things."

I nodded in understanding.

"I see." I said simply. "Have you eaten, at all?"

He stared at me for a few seconds.

"Guess not." I sighed and pulled my wand out again, conjuring a basic table and two chairs for us to sit on. Afterwards, I fished for a few things in my pocket, placing them on the table.

Jon gazed at them in confusion— not astonishment, as he had gotten used to seeing me defy the laws of physics on a regular basis. "What are those?"

"Two loaves of bread and a jug full of wine." I said, tracing an almost complete circle of icy blue light at the aforementioned items and incanting: " _Engorgio!"_

Immediately, the shrunken items shivered and bounced around, growing and growing until they reached a size I was comfortable with.

Did I know that I could make endless food with this spell? Yes, I did, but I was richer than the entire Seven Kingdoms; why waste my time on engorging every piece of food I owned to increase my food supply, when I could simply buy some more?

It's not like it was hurting my finances in any way.

"I'll never get used to these things you do." Jon said with a shake of his head, though he grabbed a loaf and munched it down quickly, anyway.

"Careful, you might get the—"

Jon hiccupped as he swallowed another mouthful down.

"—Hiccups." I finished lamely. "Never mind. You've went and done it."

I pulled out a couple of shrunken mugs, and used the Engorgement Charm again, before filling them with wine and handing one to Jon.

"Go ahead. Drink up." I ordered.

He gave me the most petulant look, before hiccupping again and taking a long swig, deciding that getting rid of the hiccups was more important than his embarrassment.

"So, what happened?" Jon asked after a while.

"Well, I made an excuse for your absence." I said, giving him a nod. "I'm sure that telling them that you were having some kind of identity crisis wouldn't have helped your broodi— I mean deep, important thinking."

Jon gave a grateful, if somewhat irritated smile, and nodded for me to continue.

"You lost a bet." I said. "That's what I told Jory before the melee began. Honestly, I was not impressed, at all. I was too fast for any of them— the only damage I sustained was from my rolls on the ground. Obviously, you get scratched if your skin is dragged around on the floor while you roll."

"I would imagine." Jon said.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you started easily defeating opponents who would have given you trouble in the past. I'm not sure what level of speed you'll attain, but I'm sure you've noticed how much stronger you are, now." I said, eyeing my fellow teen for a moment.

"Yes." Jon admitted. "I am physically twice as strong and fast as I was before."

"I thought as much." I said. "My powers aren't simply over the elements, they also synchronize with your body, powering it beyond its limits. You have twice your old strength, while still retaining the agility, flexibility and speed your lean build allows you."

At the sound of his build, Jon's facial expression turned grim.

"I know, I know." I said quickly, grabbing his attention before the idea of running away went through his mind. "It's frankly shit, but you can't run away from this, Jon. I tried running from my destiny, looking for the great adventure once. It didn't end well."

I had shared my true story with Jon— another reason why I considered him my closest friend in this world. While everyone else knew me as the strong warrior with a black scaled right arm from the Eastern Continent, Jon knew me as I was: Harry Potter from Earth.

He had a lot of trouble wrapping his head around different universes and all that, but he understood the general concept of it all.

"I know." Jon said, a little weakly. "But I—"

"—Jon." I interrupted, grabbing him by the shoulders and staring into his startled eyes. "Snow, Stark, Targaryen. Who cares? You know who you are. I know who you are. Your family knows who you are. Your bloodline doesn't matter— unless you want to be King, or something? Jon Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the—"

"NO!" Jon almost yelled out, before taking a breath to calm down. "No. Kingship isn't for me."

"Heh." I grinned suddenly. "You'd become as fat as Robert, the stupid tub of lard."

Jon rolled his eyes, and I stifled a smile, happy to get him comfortable and talking again.

"So yeah, the melee started." I said. "No one lasted long against me. I hit 'em a couple of times— without even using my sword— and they dropped like sacks of potatoes. I suppose, in all fairness, this was a melee and not a coordinated army."

"You would likely have much more trouble fighting against an army." Jon said, and I tapped my wand on my head, turning invisible.

"Unless you do that." Jon added as I shimmered back into existence. "I'm sure you could obliterate entire regiments if you so chose."

"Why waste the energy when I could simply escape?" I asked.

"Bit craven, isn't it?" Jon asked in response.

"Heh. I guess." I said, shrugging without much care. "War isn't about niceties and honor. You know how war works?"

When Jon didn't answer, I continued. "The victor decides what the history is in the books. We've both heard the story of the battle between the King and the former Prince." Jon winced slightly at the mention of his late father, but I kept going. "They said he bashed his armor so hard the rubies fell out into the river. Do you really think that happened?"

Jon shook his head mutely.

"You know the Children of the Forest exist." I said. "Such is the religion of the Old Gods. You can't believe in them without believing in the Children."

"Where are you going with this?" Jon asked.

"Well, the followers of the Seven Who Are One came to Westeros and destroyed that religion in all areas except the North." I said clearly. "And, think about it. What's the general view on Northerners, here?"

Jon took a moment. "They think we're savages."

"Exactly." I nodded. "Guess who perpetuates these rumors?"

"You can't mean— the Septons?" Jon rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Yes. Septons speak to the people all the time; they preach about their Seven and 'help' the smallfolk with all of their issues. A few comments of the heathens in the North here, and there, and the people start subscribing to their school of thought." I explained. "It doesn't even matter if it's true, or not. If you say something long enough, it will catch onto people's minds. The war between the First Men and the Andals, no one cares about any of that any more."

"Anyway!" I clapped. "Back to the story. I was surrounded by Lannister men who tried to have me assassinated. After I dealt with them—"

"—What?!" Jon sputtered his wine out.

"Dude... that was good wine." I scolded. "So wasteful. Tsk, tsk."

"They attempted to kill you?" Jon repeated.

"Yes, that's what assassination is, Jon." I said, rolling my eyes. "You have mastered the Westerosi tongue well. Have a drink."

At Jon's deadpan stare, I continued the story.

"Yes, I'm not sure why they were trying to kill me." I said. "Probably Joffrey's doing. The Queen's too subtle to do something like that. She would go for something involving subterfuge. Honestly, this seemed more like the doing of Joffrey. He probably paid some of the Lannister men with specific instructions to kill me during the melee and make it look like an accident."

Jon nodded, relaxing when he noticed my tone of voice hadn't wavered a bit.

Truly, the entire ordeal bored me.

"But yes, the assassination attempt was foiled." I recapped, before moving on with the story. "Thoros of Myr helped me break their line up, and then I fought in the melee some more, until I decided to fight the Mountain."

I stopped for a moment to take a sip of the wine, enjoying its rich, slightly fruity taste, before continuing. "He was strong— much stronger than what his build suggested. He was all muscle, all honed to tear through his opposition. He never bothered dodging or parrying; the epitome of a berserker."

"Then—"

"—But his greatest strength was also his greatest weakness." I said, swirling the liquid in my mug. "He was furious, but reckless. Strong, but slow. His attacks were predictable, and easy to dodge. I have no doubt you could have beaten him very easily."

"Me? Defeat the Mountain That Rides?" Jon asked incredulously.

"Rode." I corrected, finger up in the air.

"What?" Jon asked, frowning in confusion.

"Rode." I repeated.

"What?" Jon repeated as well, his frown deepening. "I don't understand."

"Oh!" He said a second later. "Past tense. He's dead, then?"

"Took you long enough." I said, though not unkindly. "Yes, he's dead. I decided to stop playing with him, and taunted him enough so that he launched a downward slash on me. I blocked it with my scaled arm and hit him back."

A few seconds passed.

"And?" Jon asked a little impatiently.

"He died." I said.

"He died from a punch?" Jon asked. "Did you punch him in the throat to choke him?"

"No. I punched him in the chin and that liquefied his brain." I said.

Jon stared at me for a few seconds, before shaking his head in resignation.

"I pushed my power inside of him and his body couldn't take it." I allowed.

"That makes more sense. Much more sense."

"I know, but confusing you was a little amusing, you have to admit." I smiled.

"What happened after?" Jon said, trying to get on with the story.

"Everybody cheered." I said. "I guess they wanted him dead as much as I did."

"Not surprising." Jon gave a nod of agreement. "He's the main offender in the Sack of King's Landing and the killing of the Royal Family. Fath— Uncle.."

"You can still call him Father, you idiot." I chastised. "He's acted the part, hasn't he?"

Jon gave a stiff nod. "Father." He rolled the word around in his head, as if it was the first time he was ever using it. "Father wanted Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch to be executed or sent to the Wall for their crimes, but the King Robert let them go since they secured the throne by killing... my Targaryen half siblings."

A few moments passed until Jon broke the heavy silence that had gathered around us. "Father was right to claim me as his own bastard, wasn't he?"

"Yes. You would have been put to death, otherwise." I replied unflinchingly and uncompromisingly. "I can't think of any other way he could have ensured your survival. He loves you— you might not be his son, but he loves you as a son, just the same."

Jon nodded a few times, looking to me so I could finish the story.

"Even though Jory said he wanted to win the money, after witnessing my battle against the Mountain, they all simply laid down their arms and proclaimed me the winner." I said.

Jon snorted at the change of subject. "Must have been quite a sight, everyone cheering and chanting your name."

I smiled lightly, pulling out a small pouch and throwing it to Jon. "Here."

"What's that?" Jon asked, untying the string and checking the inside of it— fitting his entire hand in the pouch. "Bigger on the inside? All I can feel are coins."

"Yes." I smiled. "The winnings from the melee. Twenty thousand gold dragons, was it?"

Jon's eyes went wide, and he tried to give it back to me.

"I can't accept this, Harry." Jon said strongly.

"You can." I disagreed. "I wasn't going to join the melee since you said you wanted to join it. You can easily beat any one of those guys; of that, I have no doubt."

"But, I didn't compete." Jon argued.

"Yes, that whole Targaryen revelation." I said, rolling my eyes. "You brooded, it was all very dramatic."

Jon palmed his face. "I'm never going to convince you, am I?"

"Nope." I said cheerfully. "Think of this as your emergency money pouch. I've already enchanted it to be considered worthless to anyone but the two of us."

"Amazing." Jon said, forgetting about the current argument— he probably knew it was pointless to argue with me. "Do you think I could ever be able to learn the rest of your magic?"

I considered his words, before pulling out my wand and handing it to him. He looked at it confusedly, and then back at me.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" He asked.

"Give it a wave!" I said excitedly, startling and bewildering him.

Heh. So that's how Ollivander got his kicks, eh?

Jon waved the wand.

No response.

"Was something supposed to happen?" He asked, waving it again, and again.

"If you had my magic, my wand would have shot out some sparks." I informed Jon, snatching back the holly wand and gazing at him curiously.

Strange that he didn't have enough magic to interact with my wand. Was the energy source I used for my Lightning different than that I used for wand spells?

It sounded farfetched, I thought to myself with a shake of the head.

"It seems your magic has overtaken my own, and reformed it to adapt to your own body's needs. I can't think of any other reason that you wouldn't get even the smallest response out of my wand." I said, going for the simpler explanation.

"I could have told you that." Aegon's voice came from behind us, before hovering around Jon, making him uncomfortable. "How fare you, descendant of mine?"

"Stop calling me that." Jon said.

"How fare you, then, Jon?"

"I'm all right." Jon replied, satisfied.

"Have you taken the time to consider my words?" Aegon asked, settling himself on ghostly chair with us.

"I do not wish for Targaryen restoration." Jon said, after a moment. He gave me a look. "Kingship would not suit me. I am a fighter, not a King."

"I understand." Aegon said. "I was a fighter, as well. I practiced with the sword every day, after training with my dear Balerion. Even after my Conquest of the Seven Kingdoms, I did not wish to deal with the day to day affairs of the Realms. All that mattered to me was the preparations to be made against the threats beyond the Wall."

"You were drawn to it?" Jon asked.

"Oh, yes." Aegon confirmed. "The Targaryens were one of the Dragonlords of Old Valyria, a civilization of magic. Though I did not know many spells, I was very sensitive to the magics of the world around me. When I visited the Wall, I felt a presence; a presence so strong and dark I was overcome with debilitating fear. So, I began to prepare. Alas, I failed before I could even figure out their motives. The true enemy is stronger than ever, and there are only three Targaryens left in the world— you included."

"I'm not a— never mind." Jon gave up trying to correct him.

"You cannot deny who you are, Jon." Aegon said almost softly.

"I know that." Jon said a little strongly, before sighing. "I know that, but my loyalty is to my family, the only family I've known; House Stark. These other Targaryens in Essos, I don't know who they are. I don't know what they believe. I don't know if they're trustworthy."

"Understandable." Aegon nodded, smiling slightly. "You remind me of myself."

"I do?" Jon asked in surprise.

"Indeed." Aegon confirmed. "Just like you, I was a quiet boy; my words, measured and controlled. I had very few true friends. The people simply wished to gain favor with the last Dragonlords. The same went for other Lords. It was difficult to trust others, to bare my soul to them."

"You're right, my descendant." Aegon continued. "Your Aunt Daenerys and Uncle Viserys might be gripped by the same madness which gripped their father, Aerys. Then again, they might simply be attempting to regain their rightful place as rulers of the Seven Kingdoms, which I united."

"Magic is on the rise again." Aegon said. "And with them, the Great Enemy in the far north, as well as dragons, and the like."

"What are the chances that—"

"You are right." Aegon admitted, knowing where Jon was going with this. "The chance of Daenerys or Viserys finding the egg of a dragon— all the while knowing how to hatch it— is slim to none. But, I know how to hatch them, and I know the location of an egg."

He waited a few seconds before speaking again. "An egg I kept from my children; instead, I chose to keep its location hidden, taking the secret to the grave with me."

"You hid it?" Jon repeated.

"That was hundreds of years ago." I chimed in. "Dragon eggs can last that long? That goes against all laws of nature."

"Dragons are creatures of magic, Blackscale." Aegon spoke. "Only magic can awaken them. My house's words, 'Fire and Blood', are the requirements to hatch the eggs."

"Human sacrifice by incineration?" I asked.

Aegon nodded.

"I refuse." Jon said immediately.

"Jon." The ancient specter tried.

"No!" Jon shook his head. "I will not sacrifice another human being for the sake of power."

"How does it work, exactly?" I asked curiously, ignoring Jon's appalled stare. "Maybe I can revise it so it does not need a human sacrifice."

"The blood cannot be avoided." Aegon said resolutely. "Life begets life, and if you are not willing to shed lifeblood onto an egg, it will not hatch."

I nodded and wryly said. "That's fine, blood magic tends to require blood. What about the fire?"

"The strongest magic known." Aegon said. "It channels the power of the sacrifice and cleanse it as it enters the egg."

"I see." I said. "So, how did dragons hatch other dragons? I'm sure they wouldn't be able to prepare sacrifices of fire and blood."

"A well thought out point." Aegon allowed. "In truth, I do not know."

"Perhaps a simple infusion of magical power is what is needed, as well as an open flame." I smiled, remembering Hagrid's way of hatching it. "That should provide it with both life and fire."

"...It's possible." Aegon said, before looking at Jon, who seemed mollified by my revised plan. "Would you accept my gift now, Jon?"

Jon looked down for a few moments, before nodding and looking to the both of us shortly, but meaningfully. "I will."

And so Aegon told us.

It was a good thing he did, because if we had waited just one more day, we would never have known.

"Say, who was the egg's parent?" I asked curiously as he informed us of the egg's location— on the Isle of Faces, held by some green wizards or whatever.

Aegon smiled.

"Balerion."


	18. Coup

Dark chapter. You have been warned.

Also, slightly longer chapter than usual.

Hope you enjoy it!

 **oooooooooo  
A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 18: Coup**

Sidestep. Kick. Shield. Punch. Block.

"Oof!" I felt myself get carried off by the momentum of Jon's strike, but recovered quickly and grabbed his arm. With a grunt of effort, I heaved and threw him to the wall, but not before I was forced to shield myself from the burst of flame coming off his hands, even as he was sent flying back.

I lowered my arms, stood back and watched him collide against it before dropping to the floor harshly, the breath most likely leaving his body.

"Not bad at all..." I trailed off, before my eyes widened as he recovered quickly and launched a stream of white hot flames at me. I jumped as high as I could, and drove my Lightning coated hands into the stone ceiling above me so as not to fall.

The flames guttered out, leaving the floor charred and glowing very slightly.

I whistled, greatly impressed. His fire had torn right through the stone!

"Been learning some tricks, have we?" I asked as Jon relaxed, signaling the end of the fight.

He looked up at me expectantly, as I pulled my hands out of the ceiling and adjusted my fall so I wouldn't land on the still extremely hot stone bricks below me.

"I was sure that would've hit you." Jon panted slightly, sounding slightly upset.

"You wanted to hit me with _that?_ " I repeated.

Jon waved me off. "I know you can take it."

I grinned. "Damn, so much for a guilt trip."

"You've improved a lot, Jon." I continued, my grin shifting into a soft smile. "That attack of yours would work on anyone but me, I can guarantee you that."

He nodded, but still didn't seem convinced.

I moved to him and gripped his shoulder. "I'm serious!"

I pointed at the steadily decreasing glow coming from the stone floor. "You've managed to increase the strength of your flames faster than I ever expected."

I turned back to look at him.

"I'm proud of you." I said. "You know that? You've learned all I've got to teach you."

"Wha— Truly?" Jon asked in bewilderment.

"Yes." I nodded confidently. "I've taught you how to shape your flames, I've taught you how to compress it to a degree that... Well..." I pointed at his handiwork. "The results are right there."

"So, what now?" Jon asked.

"Now, you just work on getting physically stronger." I said. "Perhaps learn how to fly with your fire alone, though that will take a lot of energy."

"Fly...?" Jon sounded incredulous. "You think that's possible?"

"Yes." I said with a smile. "I can do it, though it tears through my shirts every time to make wings."

"Wings?" Jon sounded both amused and intrigued. "Show me."

I stared at him for a few seconds before acquiescing. I made sure to take off my shirt and then began to concentrate.

Electric blue wings quickly erupted from my back, filling the room with a gentle buzzing sound and a bright, blue light as the new appendages swayed gently in the air, causing it to vibrate slightly.

"A-Amazing." Jon said, circling me with awe. "I had no idea you could..."

"Yes." I said, looking faintly amused. "I can."

I released my powers, the Lightning drawn back into my body— no need to waste perfectly good energy, after all.

"Though, I only use them in certain situations. For the most part, I trust Geryon to get me where I need to be. It's much faster, and infinitely less draining on my own reserves." I explained patiently.

In fact, I had only used my wings once, when I had landed in the new world.

"Fair point." Jon spoke. "Geryon is unlike any other horse I've met."

"No more special than Ghost." I replied back.

Jon smiled, but then frowned. "What if.. No, that probably won't work."

"Hm?" I asked curiously. "What won't work?"

"It'll sound ridiculous." Jon said.

"Humor me." I encouraged him.

"Well," Jon started uncertainly. "What if I gave some of my power to Ghost?"

Huh, that was an interesting thought.

"To Ghost?" I repeated. "I'm not sure. The direwolves come from the North North, and—" I smirked as I heard Balthazar's irritated hisses in my mind for a second. "—It's possible that adding your flames to him might not work. I doubt it would harm him, though. Well, the unaligned energy, at any rate. You might need some more training in energy sharing, to get that far."

His face switched a hopeful look.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, sure. I'll see if I can teach that to you, at some point. Maybe, next week?"

Jon quickly agreed, and we exited the unused room, before making our way back to the Tower of the Hand. It was almost midday, I noted as we greeted the Stark guards and made our way to the Hand's office, where Ned was waiting for us.

"You're early." He smiled slightly, and nodded in approval, before standing up. "Much to do today, Jon. As for you, Harry, one of Baelish's associates had something to tell you."

Now _that_ sounded strange.

"Is that so, Lord Ned?" I questioned, hoping he'd elaborate.

Ned only grimaced slightly at the method of address, before replying. "Yes, though he only stated that it was something that might take some time, possibly the rest of the day."

"Great." I huffed in slight irritation. "It sounds like it will be... _fun_. Any idea where he might be?"

Jon snorted as his uncle spoke.

"He's waiting for you at the entrance of this very Tower." Ned informed me.

I gave a simple nod, and turned to leave.

"See you later, Jon, Lord Ned." I said, and exited the office, hearing Jon's call of goodbye as I began to descend the long flight of stairs. I passed by some of the guards, giving them nods and smiles as they greeted me.

I reached the bottom, where the man in question was waiting. He was a thin man, with wide eyes darting nervously every other moment. His round face was unshaven and peppered with pimples, especially on the top of his balding head.

Disgusting.

I greeted the man and he jumped, the dirty rags that he wore moving with him.

"Milord." The man said, smiling. It was all I could do to not cringe away from those rotting, yellow teeth.

By God, was I happy I could still ensure that my teeth were clean through the use of magic.

"Hello." I replied, not correcting him on my Lordship status. "I was told you wished to see me on Lord Baelish's behalf?"

"Yeah." The older man grunted, nodding quickly, tearing his eyes away from a nearby vase which looked on the expensive side.

"Lord Baelish said ta' lead you to 'im." He explained, giving a bow. "Milord."

I nodded. "Lead the way, then, my friend."

"It's a bit outta town, milord." He hesitated.

"That's fine." I smiled in what I thought was a friendly way. "A little walking never hurt anybody."

The man nodded and said "milord", before finally leading the way. We passed by more of the Stark guards, who gave me a respectful nod, which I returned, before passing through the Red Keep proper.

The trip was slow going.

My companion?

"So, do you have any idea what this is about?" I asked again, a few minutes later, as we exited the Red Keep, and made our way through the streets of King's Landing. "Maybe I could make the process go faster if I knew what we were dealing with."

He only laughed, a whistling noise coming out between the large gap in his teeth, before answering that he hadn't the faintest clue.

Of course, he wouldn't know.

Far be it from Baelish to actually tell his underlings what the deal is. I've only had a few interactions with the man, but he was a seriously annoying man. Oh, he smiled politely, and attempted to be as unassuming as possible, but Erebus immediately picked up on the ill intent.

As the Emperor of Darkness, I had also managed to pick up on this, as well.

I figured he was probably finding ways to swindle people out of their money, or something. Greed is a strong, negative emotion, after all.

I passed by a few known bars and brothels, being frequented by large groups of burly looking men— though, not the knights in armor I was expecting.

I shrugged; perhaps they were here for the Joust that would occur soon.

We finally reached the gate leading out of the city. A few questions from the City Watch later, and we were off.

"Just ahead now, 'bout 'alf an 'our's walk." He stated in an accent which unmistakably put his place of birth as Flea Bottom— or so I've heard. It was a bit of cockney, mixed with this world's language patterns as well as something else.

I didn't care enough to learn it.

Heh, I'd probably lose quite a few brain cells if I tried— Lightning healing me or not.

Anyway, I buckled down and followed the man, who walked at a ridiculously slow pace. I frowned.

"Could we walk a bit faster?" I asked.

"Apologies, milord." The man wheezed and rapped at his right foot. "Old thing's been busted fo' a long time, now."

I sighed but didn't reprimand him for something he couldn't help. "It's all right."

Something shifted in his eyes, but he nodded resolutely and kept going forward.

Strange.

It was as if he was sad, for a second.

 _§Perhaps not many people are kind to him?§_ Balthazar hissed quietly in my mind.

I nodded.

" _Fair point._ " I thought back. " _It makes sense. I could've simply ordered him to move faster or I'd have his head, and he probably would have complied._ "

Satisfied, I kept following him, as we passed by the shanty settlements outside of town and moved southwards to the Kingswood.

Hm, from the looks of it, I figured it would either be an animal problem, or some killer who lives in the woods. I entertained myself with thoughts of battle as we entered the large forest, walking straight ahead.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" I said after ten minutes of nonstop walking.

"I-It's just up ahead now." He said nervously, eyes flitting around at every sound in the forest, before he pointed at our destination. "You see? There it is."

I looked to where he was pointing at and saw a broken down carriage lying on top of a large boulder.

"Huh." I said to myself, before approaching the carriage to examine it. Its doors were cracked open, revealing nothing within. "I wonder what this is doing here."

I turned to look back at Baelish's envoy.

"Is this what I'm supposed to be looking at?" I questioned him.

A nod.

I looked at the carriage again and back at the man. "Are you sure? There's nothing in there."

"I-I-I don't know, milord." He stammered nervously, eyes still going a mile a minute, checking every tree and bush for danger.

"Relax, it's just a forest." I said reassuringly. "Nothing's going to happen."

The man responded by nodding jerkily again.

I sighed and resumed my examination of the carriage. Again, I saw nothing but cracked, but polished wood. Though this carriage looked quite familiar...

Wait.

This was the Queen's wheelhouse.

I remembered it because I had fixed its broken axle, back when we were heading to King's Landing. I'm guessing my charm faded at some point, because I spotted the same break on the axle when I bent to check its underside.

I stopped my examination to speak to the man again.

What was Baelish playing at?

"Is this some kind of joke?" I said in irritation. "Why would Baelish show me the empty wheelhouse of the former Queen Cersei?"

The man blanched and backed away.

I made to follow him before Erebus shouted in my mind.

" _Archers!_ " He roared and I immediately went into action, cringing as I felt an arrow pierce the back of my hand while the rest peppered the former Queen's empty wheelhouse. I lost control for a second and fell to the floor, feeling two arrows graze the side of my neck, and my face respectively.

Immediately, I pressed down on the neck wound with my good hand and cauterized it, cringing and screeching in pain as the smell of burning flesh entered my nose— my modified Bubblehead Charm had failed, it seemed.

Opening my eyes slightly, I saw the thin man make a run for it. I got up and made to follow him, only to crouch under yet another volley of arrows. I felt a few stings as they bounced off my clothes, the Unbreakable Charm holding under the onslaught.

Though the impacts would definitely leave some really bad bruises, I would be fine.

My left hand, however... I snapped off the arrow head as cleanly as I could with my Lightning and pulled the rest of it out, weathering continuous volleys which did nothing but slam painfully into my back and bounce off.

Next step, cauterizing the wound on my left hand.

I screamed again as the Lightning closed the wound up, intensifying the smell of burnt flesh. It didn't matter, the blood loss was stopped, and it wouldn't get in the way of battle.

I made some over the top choking noises, before pretending to fall on my side. The volleys stopped. I pretended to choke some more— wasn't really hard, with stabbing pains on my left hand, my neck, my face and bruises forming on my back.

"I think we got 'im!" One of them said excitedly.

"So much for the great Blackscale, eh?" Another one said, most likely smirking.

A few laughs. Five men? No, maybe six? There was no way to tell.

"All right, boys." A third one said, his voice deep and grumbling. "Let's take the boy and bring him to Baelish. I'm sure the Queen will reward us further by seeing his dead body."

A few excited noises, and a "get to it!" later, three of the men approached me, while the rest turned to leave, judging from the footsteps.

"You get the legs." The first one said. "I get the shoulder and you get the middle."

"Why don't we just cut 'im in 'alf?" The man who led me here suggested. "Easier to carry, then, wouldn't it be?"

"Don't get any ideas in your head, Tyde." The first one warned. "You might've managed to bring him here, but you're still not the leader, here."

Some grumbling later, and they began to wrap their hands around me.

I reacted quickly, ignoring the pain in my left hand and swinging Erebus hard as I got up and turned, cutting through all three men before they realized I was even awake.

The three were dead before they hit the ground.

I stared at them for a few moments, as the blood began to pool and the smell began to fill my head. I snarled in rage. My agony dulled, the nerves deadening around my various wounds.

Soon, it was nothing more than a steady thump, locked in the back of my mind.

I was going to kill Baelish for this.

But first...

"Hey!" The remaining ne'er-do-wells said as they rushed me, unsheathing their swords. "He's still alive! Get him!"

I shifted Erebus to my undamaged right arm and made short work of the first man, whose thrust I sidestepped— rather clumsily compared to my normal attempts, I might add— rewarding him by swinging Erebus downwards through his neck.

It didn't cut completely through, and I was forced to pull the dark sword out by kicking the man off me. Blood sprayed out of his neck, covering me in a spatter of crimson.

I quickly wiped at my face and estimated where the last two were, before swinging with as much strength as I could manage at who I thought wasn't the leader. My trusty falchion tore through the man's sword, clothes, and the man himself in a clean swipe, bisecting him diagonally and spraying me with even more blood.

I felt something hard slam point first into my stomach, keeling me over as the breath left my body.

"What... is this?" The man— the leader of these criminals, I noted thankfully— asked incredulously, pushing his long sword against the fabric of my shirt in a futile attempt to skewer me.

I wiped the remainder of the blood off my face and pointed my injured hand at him, sending a bolt of Lightning into him. Immediately, he let go of the sword and fell back, twitching uncontrollably, his armor making clinks and dings with every movement.

I took the time to regain my breath, Vanish the blood off of me, and take stock of my situation once more. I stared at the former Queen's wheelhouse for a few seconds, my mind making the connections, before turning to the criminal leader.

While it was nice to make the connections on my own, this guy probably knew what the whole deal was. I shook my dizziness off temporarily and addressed the slowly recovering man.

His shakes had stopped, but he was still drooling.

Had I not watched my energy output and fried his brain? I knelt down slowly, making sure not to touch anything with my left hand— just because my pain receptors were dulled didn't mean that I had to exacerbate my current wounds, after all.

I laid Erebus on the dirt floor, before slapping the leader on the face a few times with my scaled hand. He sputtered and struggled, but I had no sympathy.

The fuckers had tried to kill me, after all.

"Sto—" He tried to say as I slapped him again, feeling his teeth snap and crack with every slap. "Plea—"

Eventually I stopped, and he looked at me with unrestrained fear.

"Now." I said lightly, staring at my hand in boredom as if this was an everyday thing, and I wasn't in extreme pain. "Tell me everything you know, or I'll pull your heart out and feed it to you. Your choice."

"Please, pl—" He tried to beg, but went completely still with fear when I placed my hand above his breastplate, Balthazar's potent acidic venom sizzling against his armor. He cringed as some of the liquid penetrated his skin.

"Okay!" He screamed and struggled. "All right! I'll tell you, please just stop! _PLEASE!_ "

I nodded in satisfaction and sucked all the venom back up through the hole in my hand.

"So." I smiled and retracted my hand. "What have you got for me?"

"We were or— ordered here." He stammered, his previous calm and collected voice a thing of the past.

"Ordered by whom?" I asked calmly.

"L-Lord Baelish." He answered. "He wanted you dead."

"You're not being honest with me, my friend." I gave an eerie smile and placed my hand on his chest plate again. "Perhaps another less—"

"The Queen! It was the Queen!" He shouted.

I frowned, but kept my hand on his chest plate. "Keep talking. Omit any truth and you die."

"The Queen sent us here to kill you. She made a deal with Littlefinger." He said quickly, stumbling over his words but I could understand well enough. "He was to lead you here, and we were to kill you. Her orders, I swear it."

"Interesting." I mused. "For what purpose? I doubt the humiliation she suffered would be enough to arrange my death like this?"

Though, it was certainly possible; the world lacked for reasonable people, not emotional ones. Her son, Joffrey, had tried to assassinate me during the melee, after all. Sure, it was Lannister men who could have ganged up on me over some sense of camaraderie, but such an excuse was flimsy at best.

All in all, a very clumsy attempt; only attributable to kids with power: Joffrey, in this case.

Anyway...

"All I know is, she wants you dead so that you won't interfere." He said.

"Interfere?" I asked. "Interfere with what?"

He didn't answer, instead closing his eyes.

"Interfere with _what!?_ " I asked again, letting my poison seep in through his breastplate again. He screamed, and yelled. He struggled, but I held him in place with a few electric shocks.

"The coup!" He finally screamed, after holding out for what he thought was eternity. It was really half of a minute. "She's taking over King's Landing!"

Now _that_ was worrying. I stopped the poison abruptly.

"And Baelish is... Just there to ride on her coattails. Is that it?" I asked, knowing he'd nod even before it happened.

With me out of the way, they could focus on the Stark guard and family easily.

My mind went through the possibilities. None looked good.

I got up, and started to make my way back to the capital.

The sound of the leader's laugh stopped me. I turned to see him slowly get up.

"My job is done." He smiled and looked up. "The poison should be taking effect soon."

As if his words were the trigger, I suddenly found myself stumbling over myself, my sense of balance completely gone. I lost control over myself, bending over and immediately vomiting out whatever I'd had to eat earlier in the day.

I looked up, my vision blurring steadily, though I could see him bend over to pick his sword back up with a grimace.

"It's too bad." He said, slowly approaching me as I tried to move back and fell on my ass. "We could have used someone with your talents, boy. Ah, well, no use crying over spilt milk"

He raised his sword to finish me off.

I raised my right hand and sprayed him with all the venom I could. There was a loud, sizzling noise, and a very short scream, followed by a thud.

The only things I felt before passing out were Balthazar's unintelligible yells, and the smell of dissolved flesh entering through my nose.

 **oooooooooo**

"Ugh." I groaned softly.

It felt like every bone in my body was aching, but I opened my eyes regardless. Well, I tried to; a sudden flash of red light lanced into my vulnerable eyes and sent a lance of pain ricocheting around my skull.

I instantly shut my eyes and clamped my hand over them, only to yell out in pain as my hand pressed on my face. Everything hurt, but my hand was the worst off.

What was going on?

I tried to sit up, with great difficulty, and managed to turn myself over so I was facing the dirt beneath me. Wait, dirt?

I opened my eyes to let them grow accustomed to the light in comparative shelter. A few seconds later, I pushed off the ground and surveyed my surroundings, stumbling slightly as I did so.

The sight was horrific.

I was in a forest. There was a broken carriage, and what looked to be the dissolved remains of a man.

What is— And then it hit me.

Queen Cersei tried to kill me, or stall—

"Shit!" I hissed out, ignoring the stabs of pain coursing through my body. "I have to warn the Starks!"

" _Too late, boy."_ Erebus clattered from nearby. " _That was hours ago._ "

Hours...? I stared back at the dissolved corpse.

That's right. He poisoned me.

 _§He did.§_ Balthazar piped up, though his voice sounded weak and tired. _§I don't know what that was, but I counteracted it as best as I could. It took all my remaining energy to eradicate it from your body, Harry.§_

I nodded, moving to grab Erebus and sheathe him.

 _§My armor is still in effect, but you must not use my venom for at least a day. I don't think I could handle the drain.§_ Balthazar said tiredly, before going quiet again. I had the distinct feeling he was resting.

I stumbled slightly.

" _Treat your wounds, fool."_ Erebus scolded. " _Time is of the essence, true, but you are of no use to anyone if you simply show up at their door step, half dead."_

I almost snarled out a response, before thinking better of it and diving my good hand into my pockets, pulling out a small, cylindrical container. I popped it open with some difficulty, and began to rub its contents all over my wounds.

The Murtlap Essence did its job quickly, completely closing the hole in my hand. I witnessed the flesh knit itself together at an incredible pace, until there was nothing left but an angry red mark instead of the hole it previously was.

I poked it and winced. It still stung pretty badly, but at least there was something there, now.

I applied the Essence anywhere I could think of; my neck, my face, the bruises on my back and on my stomach, and felt my body release a lot of the tension it once had as the healing agent did its magic.

I allowed myself a short sigh of relief, before closing the container and pocketing it once more.

All right, Potter.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax. Check your body's capabilities before going any further.

I tried to walk, to test my balance. As promised, Balthazar had completely counteracted the poison which was in my body, though his powers were largely unavailable to me.

No matter.

I had Erebus, my wand, and probably about forty percent of my real power available to me.

Forty percent was generous, but one could hope, right?

I disillusioned myself quickly and ran back to King's Landing, enhancing my legs with as much Lightning as they could comfortably take at the moment. A far cry from my true speed, but enough to get me back within ten minutes, rather than the hour it had taken before.

I approached the gate silently, scrunching my nose at the overwhelming odor of human refuse and feces, as well as that of animals. It had been a while since I'd smelled this delightful stench.

I had honestly grown used to having a modified Bubblehead Charm on.

I didn't want to waste any energy for anything, though. A little smell was unimportant when compared to ensuring safety of my friends and their families.

I used a Summoning Charm on the gates, and they flew open with a loud groan. I cringed at the noise and immediately made my way inside, the Disillusionment Charm letting me pass by completely unnoticed as a pack of Gold Cloaks showed up and stared dumbly at the entrance.

I made my way through the streets, spotting the same group of unsavory looking men I had seen around the brothels earlier— sell swords hired by the Lannisters, no doubt.

How did I not notice the signs?

How could I put Jon and the rest of my friends in danger?

" _Focus._ " Erebus chided. " _There are bigger things at stake here than your feelings._ "

I nodded, glad for the reminder, before steeling myself and making my way to the Red Keep.

The entrance was packed with guards standing side by side like a human wall. They were all in their armor— Lannister colors, I noted— standing at attention. A quick glance to the sides revealed half a dozen archers at the ready for anyone trying to enter.

This meant the struggle might not be over!

There was hope.

Still, no sense in barelling through these men. I was weakened, and it would probably take a whole lot of effort to kill them all— and the archers— without suffering any damage or drain to my reserves.

So, I did this instead.

" _Tarantallegra._ " I cast the spell a dozen times at the guards and watched as they broke into dance.

"Wh—" The unlucky targets mouthed out as they began to tap dance in sync with each other.

"Enough!" One of the unaffected guards shouted.

"Stop that!" A man standing behind the group commanded.

"I can't help it. My legs are moving of their own accord!" One of the unlucky guards yelled out as he did a little twirl.

The group broke apart as they tried to stop their comrades from dancing, to no avail. I immediately used one of the many openings to walk right past the group, and into the castle proper.

I immediately rushed to the Tower of the Hand, and hope began to die as I saw dead Stark guards. Men I had eaten with, slept with, rode with, and joked with.

I entered the Tower as quietly as I could, before making my way up the stairs, trying not to look at the dead guards every other step. As I reached the top, I stopped to look at Jory, his neck snapped and his eyes glazed over.

His hand still clenched hard over his sword.

A fighter until the end, huh...

I fought the tears away and knelt beside him, closing his eyes. His skin felt slightly warm to the touch. He hadn't been dead long.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, and made my way to the Hand's Office.

The sight was more horrifying than the rest, combined.

Drinks lay at each end of the table, with a few large meals in between. On one end of the table, was Robert Baratheon's dead body. His eyes, glazed over, a chicken leg on the stone floor beside him— he'd likely dropped it post mortem.

A sword— the Valyrian blade, Ice— was run right through his chest. The chair and ground under him were soaked with blood and other, less identifiable fluids, which prompted a grimace of disgust and horror.

At his right side lay the body of Eddard Stark. He was face down, his hand directly below the sword impaling his King. A great pool of blood lay beneath him, though it was no growing.

They'd also been dead a while.

I stared at the two for the longest time, my mind trying to make sense of things. How did Cersei do this?

" _We are not alone in here."_ Erebus sent me his thought calmly. " _Don't tense up."_

Tense up was just what I did, allowing me to leap to the side and avoid the whiz of darts, which embedded themselves in the table next to me.

"Impressive." I heard as a man stepped out of the shadows in the room. It was almost as if he was part of them. "Not many possess the ability to detect my presence and dodge my killing strike."

" _He's magical."_ Erebus informed me.

" _Oh, gee, how could you tell?_ " I thought back sarcastically. " _Maybe it's how he could easily detect my_ invisible _presence and hide in the shadows?"_

Erebus said nothing as I took in the newcomer.

"Who are you?" I spoke quietly, dangerously. "Did you do this?"

No answer.

"Answer me." I said with clenched teeth. "I won't ask again."

"Yes." He answered. "This man did."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed my sadness away. "Why?"

"The price has been paid. The contract has been made." He answered without emotion. "The Gift must be bestowed."

"An assassin." I said.

"My apologies." He said, not looking sorry in the least. "But I cannot let you live. My fellow is taking care of another boy— I believe he is the Hand's son, judging from his reaction to his father's death."

 _What?_

And then the assassin _attacked_.

Faster than any man I had seen so far. Faster than Jaime Lannister and Barristan Selmy put together.

But still not as fast as me, even at my reduced power. Lightning answered my call, strengthening my muscles, bones, and nerves as much as they could as I dodged the man's pinpoint strikes at my point— all debilitating and aimed at precise spots at my body despite its _invisibility_ under the Disillusionment Charm.

Enough of this.

I began to fight back.

I quickly swung Erebus at him, but he managed to avoid each and every hit.

He sidestepped my vertical slashes, leapt back from my horizontal swings, and merely kept his distance whenever he could.

I better understood his fighting style.

He was more of an ambusher, it seemed. Though he possessed speed far surpassing that of the greatest knights in the Seven Kingdoms, he did not have the necessary skill to back it up. The fact that he was trying to tire me out, rather than go for the kill, was proof enough.

In other words, he was slower than me, and not as skilled as me, either.

So it was no surprise that, after a few minutes of furious exchanges, I thrusted the blade through his head, puncturing through his eye and coming out from the back. His body feebly twitched for a few moments, before going slack.

I pulled the black blade out of his head with a sickening squelch, and wiped it on my shirt, before sheathing the blade and staring at the assassin's dead body.

His magic was odd, but ultimately weak in comparison to mine. If I was at full strength, this exchange would have taken seconds rather than minutes.

I heard a choking sound, followed by awkward shuffling on the ground, and turned to stare at Ned Stark, who was awake and coughing.

"Ned!" I canceled my Disillusionment Charm before kneeling by his side and helping to flip him over and sit him up.

He tried to form words, but it seemed like his throat was slit. I quickly put pressure on the wound before pulling out the Murtlap Essence and covering it up.

Ned relaxed as I began to put more Essence onto his wounds— and there were _many_. It was a miracle that he was alive, still.

A few more gurgles, and then. "Harry."

His voice was weak, too weak.

"Yes. I'm here." I said, trying to smile but failing miserably. "I've got you. I'll fix your right up, you'll see."

Ned shook his head slightly.

"No, no, don't think that." I said. "I swear, I'll get you fixed up in no time."

" _He's right, boy."_ Erebus sent me a thought. " _He's been in Death's grip for a while now. He only held on through sheer force of will. Incredible will, easily matches yours."_

"Harry." He said again, looking directly at me. "Arya. Sansa. Jon."

"I'll find them." I promised. "I'll keep them safe."

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, before opening them. The level of sadness and despair I saw in them... It shook me.

"Tell Jon." He struggled to say. "Tell Jon I'm... I'm not..."

"He knows." I said. "He knows his mother is Lyanna and his father's Rhaegar."

Ned's eyes widened at the revelation.

"He doesn't hate you for it." I said, watching the man tear up in happiness. "He knows you kept him alive, healthy and safe. He still loves you."

Damn it. I couldn't cry now.

I had to be strong.

The tears came anyway.

Ned merely nodded, before looking at his sword, resting his eyes on his dead friend, before gazing back at me.

"I did not—" He almost choked on his own blood. "Did not..."

"I know. This was Cersei's doing. I promise I will make her pay." I almost snarled, making sure not to jostle the dying Ned.

"The sword." Ned said, his eyes beginning to glaze over, though his words were clearer than ever. "Bring it to Robb, or Jon."

"I will, I promise." I immediately said, and he began to smile, closing his eyes as he did so.

"Thank..." And then he stopped talking, going completely limp in my arms, a happy smile still on his face. It almost looked like he was sleeping peacefully, now.

But he wasn't.

He was dead.

I stared at him for a while longer, feeling the tears stream down my face.

Why should I have been sad? I was going to leave this world any way, right?

" _Of course you're sad._ " A part of me scolded. " _He's been nothing but good to us ever since we came to this shithole. And Cersei killed him for it._ "

Yes.

Cersei did this.

She was going to pay.

I laid Ned's body back down on the floor, gently positioning his hands so that they lay over his chest; it was a position of dignity which he deserved.

I pulled Ice out of Robert's chest, and did the same for him, attempting to clean it up as much as I could.

Though... I looked at Ned's corpse again.

His _corpse_. I couldn't leave him here.

He should be resting at the Winterfell Crypts, with the rest of his family. I learned that from his many talks over the past few months I was serving under him.

I owed him that much.

I pulled my want out, and waved it over his form with a muttered " _Reducio_ ". His body shrank to something that would fit in my hand. I fashioned a small wooden coffin for him, before placing him in it and applying the strongest cooling charm I had on it, as well as an Unbreakable Charm to make sure his body would not be disturbed.

Then, I pocketed it and took his family sword, Ice, staring at it for a long moment.

I had promises to keep.

I left the King's dead body behind, intent on finding and rescuing Ned's remaining family.

 **oooooooooo**

 **Oh, right, I almost forgot.**

 **Suggestions for main pairings?**


	19. Escape

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 19: Escape**

Emotions warred within me. Sadness. Despair. Self-Loathing. Anger. Fury. Rage.

I wanted revenge.

An understatement, if there ever was any; I wanted to find Cersei and rip her to shreds, before feeding them to her father Tywin and her son Joffrey. Then I wanted to tear their hearts out and stuff them down their throats.

But, I had to clamp down on my anger.

Anger would serve no one, right now.

Control was the key.

" _Focus._ " Erebus chided as I exited the Hand's Office.

I took a few breaths to calm and center myself, once more.

No, I was still weakened, though I could feel my power slowly increasing. The fight against the assassin, while a little challenging, was not as difficult as I had expected it to be. Sure, he was faster than anyone else I had faced— with the possible exception of Jon, though he was pretty close— but that still was nowhere near even my weakened power.

I clenched my left fist.

Only a light twinge of pain.

Was it healing that quickly, or was it the adrenaline flowing that dulled the pain? I had no way to accurately tell, at the moment.

Not that it mattered; there was only one thing I had to focus on now.

Finding Arya, Sansa, and Jon.

Of the three, Jon was most likely the one in any immediate danger, but I trusted in his skills.

He could kill one of these assassins. I taught him well.

On the other hand, Sansa and Arya... Well, Arya was fairly decent, from what I've seen from her "dance lessons". But, she wasn't good enough to fight grown men with years of training.

And the less said about Sansa's skill and athleticism, the better.

The first thing I did was reduce Ice to the size of a toothpick, before placing it in one of my pockets. Then, I incanted. " _Point me Sansa Stark."_

The wand jerked towards the general direction of the Stark quarters, which was a few floors below my current position. Okay, she was close by.

" _Point me Arya Stark._ " The wand jerked and pointed outwards, outside of the Red Keep, and possibly outside of town.

I frowned, and incanted one last time.

" _Point me Jon Snow."_ The wand did not move from its previous direction.

So Jon was possibly with Arya? I had no real way to tell, as a general direction didn't really reveal all that much.

It was possible the two were together, but it was also possible they were miles apart, just in the same direction.

I shook my head. Sansa was the closest to me. I would get her, first, and then we would find the rest of them.

There. That was a plan.

Or a semblance of one.

So I moved.

I made my way down stairs, not giving any of the fallen Stark men any lingering gazes. They were dead, I could not help them. I turned to the right, into the small corridor that led into Sansa's room.

I redid the Point Me spell and my wand jerked to point inside her room.

I approached the door slowly, carefully.

"Sansa." I whispered when I reached the door.

No answer.

"Sansa!" I whispered more urgently, opening the door.

A great loud grunt was heard, and the flash of steel alerted me to the presence of an attacker. I instinctively raised my right arm to block. The great sword crashed against my arm, sparks flying as it grinded against my hardened scales.

"No, don't!" I heard Sansa's scream as the man holding the sword realized who he had tried to kill just now.

The man in question being none other than Sandor Clegane, the disfigured Hound. My gaze quickly flitted across the room. Sansa's direwolf, Lady, was dead, her throat slashed open. Septa Mordane was also dead, as well as a few servant girls.

Clegane was alone in the room with a terrified looking Sansa.

Was he trying to— no, otherwise there would have been noise. Plus, aside from what seemed to be a spatter of blood on her face and dress, Sansa looked fine.

Clegane backed off, though he kept his sword out.

"Didn't think you'd come, Potter." His deep voice came out from his horribly disfigured face.

"What are you doing here, Clegane?" I asked as he stepped aside, allowing me entry in to the room. "Here to take revenge for your brother, or are you here on the orders of Joffrey? I thought you'd still be with him at... Wherever the stupid shit is, right now."

The man in question snorted at the questions.

"Hardly. I hated my brother more than anyone." The Hound retorted with a snarl when mentioning his brother. "I swore my service to House Stark after I witnessed the events of the melee. Lord Stark did not accept."

I blinked.

"So, why are you here?" I asked again.

"Just because he didn't accept my services doesn't mean that there's not a debt owed, Blackscale." Clegane said simply, before glancing at Sansa, whose facial expressions had shifted from terrified to hopeful. "You and the Starks have done more to punish my brother than anyone I've ever known."

Fair enough.

I turned to the distraught Sansa, giving her a hug and rubbing her back.

"Sansa." I said before she could start crying or speaking. "We need to go, okay? We can't stay here, not after what happened."

"I— I—" She stammered, looking like she was on the verge of a breakdown.

Poor girl was in shock.

"I know." I backed away and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "But there's no time. Guards could come here at any minute. We'll have plenty of time to figure out what to do after we get out of here. All right?"

Sansa closed her eyes and shuddered, before looking at me with those scared, blue eyes of hers.

"I promise." I tried a different route. "We'll find Arya and Jon and get as far away from here as possible."

The mention of her siblings seemed to do the trick, as her gaze turned to steel, reminding me of her father for just a moment, before her unease settled back in.

She nodded, and made to follow me.

"Hey, hey." The Hound said, sounding irritated. "You think you can just walk out of the Red Keep, just like that? Guards are everywhere. We can't even make a move without every shit in this castle knows about it."

"Good point, Hound." I said, eyes un-focusing slightly as I recalculated what the plan ought to be. I turned to him. "You're coming with. You watch over Sansa, and I clear the way. You kill any fuckers who try to grab her. We're going to try and sneak our way past some of the guards, but if push comes to shove and hiding is not an option, then I'll kill them."

The disfigured man mulled it over. "Sounds better than any plan I've got. What the hell... Let's do it."

I smiled, and motioned for the both of them to follow me. I surreptitiously waved my wand over their feet with the Silencing Charm so that no one could hear their loud footsteps. If Clegane noticed that his armor was as quiet as the blackest night, he didn't give any indication.

Fine by me.

We made our way to the base of the Tower of the Hand, moving past the dead Stark guards. I heard a few gasps from Sansa, the shocking imagery destroying what little self-control she managed to retain.

And, who could blame her?

The people she'd known her whole life were lying dead everywhere.

I motioned for Clegane and Sansa to stop when I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. I unsheathed Erebus and slowly inched forward.

"You think the Tower's been cleared yet?" One of them asked.

"Yes, the signal was given." The other replied. "Our orders are to capture the Stark bitches to hold them hostage."

"Heh." A third started, and was about to say more when I turned the corner and swung the sword right through his neck, detaching his head from his body. Lightning coursed through my body as I dodged an impromptu charge from one of them, tripping the fool for good measure before driving Erebus straight down into his back, severing his spinal cord.

The rest of them, six more, it seemed, drew their swords.

At their back, a Kingsguard stood. Not Jaime, not Selmy, either.

One whose name I never cared to learn.

They began to circle my form as one of them made to attack me. That way I'd be kept occupied while one of them stabbed me in the back.

I was having none of that. I grabbed the man's sword with my right hand, ignored his yelp of surprise and _pulled_ , sending him colliding with the man trying to get behind me. The two fell in a loud clatter of metal against stone.

I pointed Erebus at them.

"Leave nothing behind, Erebus!" I snarled hatefully at the rest of them. " **DARK STREAM!"**

Darkness poured from the blade, washing over both downed men and the ones charging me with loud, defiant roars. Their roars turned into frightened screams which were cut short as the Darkness consumed them whole, leaving nothing behind but frosted stone.

I cut the flow of Darkness. It was the first time I had used that on actual people. It was... incredible.

Nothing of them was left behind.

Another silent moment passed, and I heard my sword burp.

" _Mmm..._ " I had the distinct feeling the demonic sword was rubbing its belly contentedly. " _Good meal, I haven't had human in a while_."

I opened my mouth, and shut it.

There really was nothing I could say to that.

"What the _Seven Hells_ was that, Blackscale?" I heard Clegane's awed voice come from behind me. I turned to see him and Sansa, who were greatly shocked by what they just witnessed.

"My true power. Or a fraction of it." I said simply, smiling despite the situation. "I don't really have time to explain, but Lord Ned knew of my powers— that's part of the reason he requested my services."

"Now, come on." I said and led the way again. "There will be time for questions later. Escape first."

"Fair enough." Clegane said. Sansa kept quiet, most likely moving on autopilot at this point.

What came next were a few tense minutes walking quietly through the hallways and corridors of the Red Keep, avoiding guards here, and there with a few applications of the Confundus Charm.

I entertained the thought of using the Disillusionment Charm on myself, Clegane and Sansa, but thought better of it. I wouldn't be able to track their position, and they wouldn't be able to track mine.

Eventually, we reached the entrance of the Red Keep, still packed with guards, though they were no longer dancing. Did the spell fade, or were the men taken away?

It didn't matter. All of these fuckers were dead.

"I'm going to kill them all, but I have to get my horse, first." I said calmly. "You two stay back."

Clegane immediately complied, knowing better than to argue with me at this point, and pulled the distraught girl with him.

No sense in giving them a target, I thought before tapping my wand over my head, initiating the Disillusionment Charm and walking past them towards the stables of the Red Keep, where Geryon was standing there, looking directly at me.

 _Through my Disillusionment Charm._

I shook my amazement off quickly, before patting the horse on the head and explaining what I wanted him to do.

"You come here after I use my **Roar** , okay? You remember my **Roar** , right?" I whispered to the horse gently.

A nod.

"Okay, good." I smiled and gave him another pat on the head, before going back to the guards and finding the best possible spot to do the most damage before they could even react.

I counted at least 20 men on the ground in front of me. The archers were still the same— three on each side. My left hand still stung from the arrow that had torn through it just a few hours back.

I sheathed Erebus,

A Dark Stream could not cover this much range. The archers, I could kill easily with well-placed bolts of Lightning; the remainder of the guards, well...

There was only one thing that would do the trick.

I smiled and pointed my hands at each group of archers and called on my powers. Lightning shot of my hands, splitting into six different arcs which immediately overtook the archers, who could only scream in shock ( _heh, pun_ ) and pain as they fell down, spasming uncontrollably as they did so.

"What the!?"

"What was that!?"

Amongst cries of fear and bewilderment, I took a deep breath, charging my lungs with Lightning.

Incidentally, the great collection of power forced my Disillusionment Charm to come undone.

"The Blackscale!"

"Get him!"

If they had a few more seconds, maybe they might have made it to me and stopped me.

Too bad.

" **Lightning Dragon's Roar!** "

A great blast of bluish white Lightning burst forth, encompassing an incredibly wide area, tearing through stone and soldiers alike. Their screams were short as the Red Keep shook with the force of my attack, which exploded with a thunderclap against the gates, almost completely atomizing them.

I stopped the flow of energy and examined my handiwork for just a second.

The Lannister guards were there one moment; the next, they simply weren't. The sheer force of my **Roar** had destroyed them, as well as digging a trench in the red stone which stretched from my position to that of the gates.

I took a deep breath and spat to the side.

Good riddance, I thought before motioning for Clegane and Sansa to come out of their hiding spot.

They quickly complied, as Geryon also trotted over to me, giving Sansa and Clegane a single glance, before looking back to me.

"You two get on Geryon, I'll lead the way." I ordered the two.

Sandor opened his mouth but I cut him off. "No questions! _Do as I say_."

He nodded, but obeyed by helping Sansa up on the horse, with him sitting behind her.

I channeled some Lightning into my legs, gave Geryon a single look, and took off at a sprint, the loyal steed following me with ease despite my greatly enhanced speed.

Judging by the sound of bells and marching, I assumed we'd gotten out of there just in the nick of time.

" _Too close for comfort_." Erebus rattled within his sheath. I nodded imperceptibly, fully in agreement with the powerful sword.

"This fucking brat is right out of the damned storybooks." I heard Clegane grumble as I incanted. " _Point me Arya Stark._ "

The wand pointed to the north-west. I followed its trajectory as best as I could, weaving in through the streets, Geryon trotting along behind me at great speeds.

Eventually, a few minutes later, we reached one of the gates leading out— the Iron Gate, if I remembered correctly. It was on the north wall, and connected to the Rosby road, which would lead us to Rosby, along the Blackwater Bay.

I redid the spell again. The wand definitely pointed outside.

I nodded, and used a Summoning Charm on the gates, not waiting for them to open as I made a break for it, running as fast as my legs could take me. The gates flew open with a loud groan, half a second before we ran through the open space, too fast for the guards to react.

I heard a few whizzes of arrows, but they fell extremely short as we slowed to an enhanced jog.

" _Point me_ _Arya Stark."_ I used the spell again, and it pointed north-west again, though the wand moved further east as I kept going forward.

" _Point me Jon Snow_." I tried for Jon.

Same thing occurred.

I relaxed an infinitesimal amount. They were both at the same place, meaning they were together. I wanted nothing more but to find a bed and rest, or sit on Geryon's back, but neither of those options was available to me.

No rest for the wicked, it seemed.

Twenty minutes of silent running passed before I tried the spell again.

My wand pointed west to a hill which looked to have a series of caves— one of which was tinted in a flickering orange, the sign of a fire. Jon and Arya had stopped for the night. I gave a glance up at the steadily darkening sky.

Night was indeed falling.

I took a short breath, before running to the cave in question.

As I got closer and closer, I made sure to use the Point Me spell again, just in case I was crashing on someone else's party. The wand pointed exactly in the direction of the cave.

Good enough for me.

"Okay." I said slowly as I motioned for Clegane and Sansa to dismount. Clegane did so first, before grabbing Sansa and carrying her bridal style— _oh_ , she had fallen asleep on the trip here.

Not surprising, this entire ordeal was very exhausting, even to me.

I was surprised she was even able to keep up this long.

Still, how exactly to approach them?

I moved towards the cave; Clegane and Geryon followed along, walking over the treacherous ground with an ease acquired from months upon months of traveling.

"Arya! Jon!" I called out. "It's me, Harry!"

No answer.

I opened my mouth to speak again, but was cut off by a small, brown haired blur diving in my arms and sobbing.

"Harry!" Arya said, looking up at me, tears falling freely from her eyes. "Jon, you have to help Jon! He protected me and now he's hurt! Please!"

My blood ran cold.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked but shook my head.

How the hell would a little girl know what's wrong?

"Take me to him." I said before she could say any more. She sniffed and grabbed my hand, leading me into the cave towards the fire. I rejoiced in the warmth for a second before my eyes landed on Jon, whose skin was deathly pale even under the orange light of the fire.

I let go of her hand and knelt next to my friend, looking over his body for a few seconds.

His clothes were completely shredded, his body cut, bruised and slashed all over. His skin was pale, and clammy to the touch. He was sweating hard, and I was pretty sure it wasn't the fire causing it.

"He protected me..." Arya said as Clegane placed Sansa on a pile of furs, before taking a seat, himself. "A man tried to kill us. He changed his face and Jon fought him and he shot fire but the man shot something at Jon and, and..."

I pulled the little girl in a hug, comforting her as best as I could, while casting diagnostic charms on the comatose teen.

"It's okay, Arya." I said. "I'm going to fix him up like I did with Bran."

" _You_ did that?" She sniffed and looked hopeful.

"Yes." I confirmed, pulling back and giving her a smile. "Why don't you go lie next to your sister, and I'll make Jon better again."

"It's not safe, here." Clegane cut in, looking outside with an uncertain look in his face. "If I was lookin' for escapees, this is the first place I'd look."

I nodded. It was a fair point.

So I pointed my wand at the entrance and cast the strongest Muggle Repelling Charm I could. The entrance shimmered for a few seconds, before dying down. A quick mental check, and I realized the spell had taken hold.

"That should keep anyone from checking the cave." I explained before turning back to Jon and re-casting the diagnostic charm.

"What did you just do?" Clegane asked.

"It's a spell that discourages people from entering the cave." I said simply as I took in the results of the diagnostic spell.

"Jon's running a high fever." I said to myself, before turning to Arya, who was sitting next to Sansa, but staring right at Jon. "You said he was shot? By what?"

Arya pointed to a spot next to Jon; darts.

"And, what happened to the man who did this?" I asked calmly as I pulled out the Murtlap Essence and spread it over the many cuts and scratches I could find.

"Jon burned him to death." Arya looked at her brother again. "With blue fire."

I nodded.

"You believe me?" Arya sounded incredulous.

"Yes." I nodded distractedly, staring at the swollen puncture wounds caused by the darts. "I'm the one who taught him how to do it. Now, be quiet for a second."

Arya complied.

I wracked my mind for a solution.

" _Okay, so the poison is circulating through his blood stream._ " I thought to myself, trying to bring the whole situation into focus. " _I have no antidote, so the only wait to do this would to pull the remaining poisons out of his body the hard way. A weak, modified Summoning Charm should do the trick."_

The fact that it would put Jon in extreme pain didn't escape me.

However, it was either that, or Jon's death.

A simple choice.

"Don't be alarmed." I said, pointing my wand at his puncture wounds and slashing them open with a weak spell. "I'm going to pull the poison out of his body, but it will hurt. A lot. Do you understand?"

Sansa slept soundly. Clegane grunted in understanding. Arya nodded quickly.

I looked at Arya pointedly. "That means he's going to thrash and scream. Keep calm."

She nodded again, more slowly this time.

Satisfied with her answer, I focused back on my friend, and took a breath.

It was now or never.

" _Accio poison_." I incanted and watched a haze of purple exit out through his puncture wounds. Almost immediately, Jon's body began to twitch and spasm. His body curled up in the fetal position while his hand went over his heart.

I suppressed a wince, hoping that the poison hadn't made it that far.

I was wrong.

Jon twitched and writhed in agony for what seemed to be an eternity, but probably was around half a minute. After a few seconds of not seeing any poison come out, I ended the Summoning Charm and re-cast the necessary diagnostic spells.

Already, his body temperature was lessening with every moment, which was good. I threw in a few Calming Charms to help him along, before covering him up with a sheet. I turned to the rest of our assemblage.

"That should do it." I said. "I—" I stopped for a moment as Arya hugged me tightly.

I smiled softly, and patted her on the back as she tried her hardest not to cry.

"Don't worry, little one." I said. "Jon will be up and about after some rest."

"Thank you..." Arya sniffled.

"Anything for you guys." I replied and rubbed circles on her back. Her breathing began to even out as her exhaustion settled in, and she fell asleep. I gently carried her and placed her next to her sister, conjuring a sheet to cover them both.

And then I sat down.

"Magic." Clegane said as I finally began to relax.

Jon wasn't in mortal danger, any longer. Sansa, and Arya were safe.

We were safe.

I kept my promise to Lord Ned.

"Can't imagine you could create some bread and wine for me, eh, Blackscale?" Clegane asked jokingly.

I nodded, stuffed my hand in my pocket, placed the items on a conjured sheet before incanting " _Engorgio!_ "

The loaf of bread grew as big as a medium sized dog, while the jug of wine grew to about two times its original size. I followed up by conjuring a few mugs.

Clegane's eyes widened at yet another feat of magic he didn't think me capable of.

But he tore a piece of bread off and filled his cup anyway.

"I was only joking, Blackscale. Didn't think you'd actually _create food out of nothing_." He said as he dove into his food.

"I could take it back, you know." I said with a tired smirk, moving to take the food away from him.

"No, it's all right."

"Tch." I grabbed a piece of my own and dug in, relishing the taste as if it was my first time eating. "Thought as much."

 **oooooooooo**

 **oooooooooo**

I put a poll up on my profile, for the pairings.

The votes, so far:

Daenerys Targaryen: 35

Arianne Martell: 7

Val: 6

Margaery Tyrell: 5

Sansa Stark: 1

Other: 1

OC: 1

Seems Daenerys is winning by a landslide, so far.

 **Make sure to get on my profile to vote!**


	20. Road Trip!

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 20: Road Trip!**

A scream.

My eyes flew open as I woke up abruptly and scrambled to my feet, ready to deliver hell onto whoever was able to get past my Muggle Repelling Charm.

The sight that greeted me was Sansa and Arya embracing their brother, Jon, who was finally awake, while Clegane sat back, watching the whole thing unfold with what I later realized was envy, and a little amusement.

"Oh, Jon!" Sansa exclaimed as I calmed down, a slight tiredness creeping up on me.

I shook it off.

How much had I rested?

"Six, maybe seven hours now." Clegane answered my unasked question, gesturing outside with a nod. It was the middle of night.

"Hm." I grunted and drew my wand, incanting a quick " _Tempus._ "

Faint white energy formed in front of me, displaying the time of day:

 **"03:42 AM."**

I gave a noncommittal grunt before canceling the spell and pocketing my wand once more and staring at my hands, specifically my left one, which had been punctured by an arrow, not long before.

I clenched it.

No pain.

I smiled and felt for my neck and back. The cuts were gone but the bruises were still there— though, nothing compared to the pain I felt before.

"All right there, Jon?" I turned to the boy in question, whose skin had regained some of its former color. Better yet, he was no longer sweating.

There were, however, heavy bags under his eyes.

"Yeah." His voice was weak, but he managed to look around. His eyes landed on Clegane for a second, before he looked back at me questioningly. I gave a nod, telling him without words that the Hound was trustworthy, for now.

A flash of white came from the entrance of the cave— oh, it was Jon's direwolf, Ghost, dragging what seemed to be a dead goat off to the side before diving into his meal with gusto.

My thoughts drifted to Lady, who was dead in King's Landing.

"Arya?" I got the girl's attention. "Where's Nymeria?"

I hid a wince as Arya froze in Jon's arms and then hugged the boy tighter.

"What _happened_?" Jon finally asked, when Sansa and Arya let him go and handed him some bread.

I sighed and ran my hand through my hair.

"Killings is what happened." Clegane answered.

"Why?"

A simple question, though it felt monumentally difficult to answer, at that very point.

"Cersei's attempt at taking the throne." I said heavily, seeing Lord Ned's face in my mind every time I closed my eyes. "I was led outside of King's Landing before all of this started— she ordered Baelish to get me out of the way and kill me. I managed to survive that and came back to find Lord Ned and the King Robert dead. They made it look like Lord Ned killed him before dying, himself."

"Lord Baelish wouldn't..." Sansa said in confusion and a hint of hurt in her tone.

"But _why_?" Jon asked again.

I shrugged, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Greed. Revenge. Lust for power. Take your pick."

"But that doesn't matter now." I said, changing the subject. "I promised Lord Ned I'd see you all to Winterfell. I have his body with me."

They all looked at me in confusion, with the exception of Jon, who understood immediately, followed by Clegane.

"Shrunk him, did you?" Clegane deduced.

I gave a simple nod and pulled out a small, coffin shaped box. "He's in here."

Jon made to grab it. I let him take it.

"I—" Jon looked at the box hollowly, before pocketing it. "We should take him back to Winterfell. To the crypts. Father deserves to be there with his family."

Arya and Sansa looked stricken throughout the whole thing.

"There's also this." I pulled out a sword the size of a toothpick, before releasing the Reduction Spell I had over it.

Ice grew back to its original size, as wide across as a man's hand and almost as tall as Jon, the blade possessing a dark and smokey appearance.

"Ice..." Jon whispered.

"Lord Ned said to either deliver this to you or Robb." I said, handing the Valyrian great sword to the already distraught boy, but he scooted backwards from it.

"What... He..." Jon said slowly, shame evident on his tired face. "But I'm not..."

"You're just as much a Stark as Robb, Jon." I said forcefully. "Lord Ned trusted you to use the sword for the right reasons."

"Yeah." Arya echoed what I said. Sansa, not really knowing what to say, kept quiet. Likely, she knew that Catelyn would disapprove of this, but in light of what happened, there really was no way this could be argued.

Jon looked down for a few moments, before right back at me, his gray eyes showing the steel the Starks were known for— but also the blue glow of his flames.

With a grunt of effort, he got back to his feet and held his hands out.

So I gave the sword to him.

I felt something shift in the air as him hand grasped the hilt. The sword pulsed, before glowing as blue as Jon's flames.

"Whoa!" I said. I heard a clatter of plate against the rocky cave floor as Clegane drew back from the flaming sword, eyes wide with unadulterated fear.

Why would he— oh, right, the late Mountain put his face in a fireplace, or something.

The power died down, and Jon sagged before falling back on his ass, looking exhausted.

"What was that?!" Arya asked in awe.

A few moments of silence.

"I don't know." Jon managed to say. "It felt like the blade _sang_ to me."

"Hm." I said. "Looks like Ice chose you. You were meant to wield it."

Arya nodded excitedly, and even Sansa looked convinced at this point. Clegane was too busy looking at the sword in fright.

"I..." Jon started, but shook his head.

"You don't have to say anything, Jon." I said, before Engorging the wine inside of the almost empty pitcher as well as the small piece of bread remaining. They both grew back to their original size.

"Time to eat." I said unnecessarily.

Breakfast was a subdued affair. I handed each of them as much food and drink as they could handle— water for the two younger ones. They— with the exception of Jon— still kept sneaking awed stares in my direction.

I supposed it would be incredible to non magicals. My mind wandered back to what Clegane had said.

He'd thought I actually created food and drinks.

I suppose he wasn't wrong in the practical sense.

In reality it was simply the Engorgement Charm at work, for both the bread and the wine. It needed a base element before simply replicating more and more of it— though there was a limit to how much you could Engorge something.

I think if you over-Engorged something it would explode, though the size would have to be probably thirty to fourty sizes bigger— I was fuzzy on the details.

Still, the argument could be made: "but he's still creating extra elements, even if he is using one of them as a base."

And it was true, to an extent.

Conjuration took your energy, and brought something out.

Engorgement takes your energy, latches it onto the base material, and produces more— as if the item was a growing organism going through a series of mitoses. In that sense, it was a bit of a combination of Conjuration and Transfiguration that was somehow permanent despite the fact that both individual branches of magic weren't.

How was that?

Hell if I know— I never took Arithmancy.

But that covered the food and wine aspect of this breakfast, I thought as I took another munch out of my bread, watching Arya sip at her water as the three siblings huddled up closer together, with Ghost sitting beside them like a guardian.

The water was not an Engorgement Charm. Nor was it a conjuration— though it always was always easier to refer to it as one.

Aguamenti, the Water Making Spell. Note that it doesn't refer to creation in any way. It only says "Making". So how was I making water, you may ask?

It wasn't my energy being converted into water. It was a variation on two different charms: Summoning, and Banishing. The first step was to Summon all of the air moisture at the tip of the wand, and then Banish— at different levels of power, depending on what your intent was.

Theoretically, you could squirt someone lightly in the face, give them a full on bath, or you could compress the water and Banish it fast enough to cut through reinforced steel.

In essence, it was water manipulation through Charms. Most likely, it would prove to be extremely powerful in a rainforest, but in a desert?

You'd be lucky if you managed to fill a pitcher of water— with the lack of moisture in the air.

" _Semantics, at that point, though."_ Erebus chimed in. " _While it's not true Creation, you essentially have an endless supply of anything you could want— provided your preservation spells hold."_

" _Your_ spells, you mean." I thought back in amusement. "You have better control over the cold than I do."

It was true, while Erebus was not the Emperor of Air, he still possessed a fair bit of control over the cold, due to his power of Darkness.

And I used him as a glorified fridge.

I ignored the flash of irritation Erebus sent me, finished the last bite and took a sip of the wine— an acquired taste over the few months I've been here— before adressing the rest of them.

"All right." I started, getting everyone's attention. "We have to get to Winterfell, or at the very least, past the Neck."

They nodded in agreement as I pulled out my map of Westeros.

"Any suggestions?" I asked, before marking our current position. "This is an estimation of where we are; somewhere close to Hayford Castle, near the King's Road incidentally."

"Take the Kingsroad straight to Winterfell." Clegane said bluntly. The others nodded.

Jon scooted closer and studied the map for a second, before tapping certain points on the map. "Stop at the Ivy Inn, before we make our way to Darry."

I frowned. "You sure? Won't these be the obvious places to look? They could send ravens ahead to look for us."

Jon's eyes unfocused in calculations for a few seconds.

"Won't be that fast." Clegane shook his head. "If what you said's true, then King's Landing is now in chaos over the death of the King and the Hand."

I nodded.

"Yes." I agreed. "I'm sure Cersei will seize this opportunity to regain her former power— though, as to who'd be King, I have no idea. Perhaps Tommen will be King as Robert stated."

"Joffrey." Clegane disagreed with a grunt.

"It doesn't matter." Jon interjected, giving the both of us a look. "But the succession will likely be another hurdle, as well as the appointment of... A new Hand." He choked slightly at the end.

I nodded in sympathy. Sansa and Arya just tried to understand it all.

"While I would like to go back in there and slaughter them all." I said. "I made a promise to Lord Ned. You three will reunite with your remaining family. Robb will be the head of the Starks, I'm guessing. Then you guys can plan out how you're going to respond to this."

"Harry— what about you?" Arya asked, looking slightly concerned.

My anticipation rose and Lightning coursed around my body, bathing our surroundings in pale, blue light, overtaking the fire for a few moments.

"Oh, it's simple. I will go and crush Cersei and Baelish." I said.

"Alone?" Arya piped up. "You'll die!"

"You've beaten all those men while we were escaping." Sandor acknowledged. "But you've taken a beating, just look at you, Blackscale. You think you can take an entire army?"

"They're right." Jon agreed. "You can't do that. I won't let you."

I glared at him, my Lightning writhing threateningly. He glared back unflinchingly.

"Cersei Lannister and Petyr Baelish will pay for their crimes." Jon said calmly, though it pained him to say it. "But cutting off the head of the snake will only let another rise in its place."

Jon was right. The world never lacked for greedy people. I took a deep breath, and reined my power back in.

Baby steps.

I could think about this later.

Focus on the objective, Potter.

Winterfell is the objective.

"All right." I said, nodding apologetically. "I won't make any hasty decision. Let's just get to Winterfell, first."

Jon smiled, before relaxing and pointing at the map again.

"We'll rest at Ivy Inn, best we move soon—"

"You're exhausted, Jon!" Sansa piped up. "You can barely move."

"Little bird's right, boy." Clegane said unflatteringly. "You look as if a good breeze would knock you over."

"No, Jon's right." I said in agreement with my friend. "We have to move, and soon. The longer we stay here the more time they have to send their agents in everywhere."

"And who's going to carry him, you? I don't exactly have my horse anymore." Clegane sneered, though he looked a bit pained after he mentioned his horse. I guess he was attached to his horse like I was attached to Geryon.

"No." I answered back, my mind whirring with the possible solutions, before it hit me. "See, I have this thing called _magic_ that lets me _create things_ , like a _carriage_."

"Oh." Sandor said, realization dawning on him.

"Yes. _Oh._ " I mockingly repeated what he said. "Jon can sleep in it while my horse Geryon takes us to Ivy Inn. From there... Well..."

I shared a look with Jon as I pointed at the Isle of Faces, which was Northwest of it.

"Do you want it, or should I have it?" I asked him lowly.

"You should." Jon said immediately at the same level of sound. "We would have never known of its existence if you couldn't speak to his ghost."

And that was that.

"Well, okay." I said, louder this time. "We'll go along the Kingsroad past Darry, to the Crossroads Inn; but it doesn't look like there are any more places to stay, afterwards."

"There are." The Hound disagreed. "I've stayed in a few of them. Out of the way, though."

"That's fine." I said. "Better to sleep on a bed than on a tent. You think we'll be followed?"

"We'll be followed everywhere we go." Clegane answered back with little to no care. "Just kill 'em and keep going."

I nodded, having considered the same method many times over throughout the discussion.

"We'll eat our own food." I said, waving my wand at the bread and wine, shrinking them to a satisfactory size and sealing the jug so the liquid wouldn't spill. "On the off chance that they poison us. Ambushes, I can handle, but I have no idea how to counteract ingested poison."

I learned my lesson on poisons. Almost dying because of poison tended to do that to you.

"Any objections?" I asked, looking at each and every one of them.

"How will we hide Ghost?" Arya said.

"Good question." I said. "I actually almost forgot about him. Thanks for reminding me little one."

I turned to look at Ghost, before pointing my wand at him and incanting. " _Reducio_."

Arya's irritated reply was cut short as she watched the large form of Ghost grow smaller and smaller until he was the size of a puppy.

And then he barked, the sound coming out more squeaky than anything.

I heard the sound of concealed laughter, and turned to see Sansa trying her best not to lose it at the sight of the formerly large direwolf trying its best to look threatening.

He barked again, irritated at the slight against him.

She lost it. Her laughter was infectious, it seemed, as Arya, Jon and I also joined it, with even Clegane rumbling in amusement at the sight.

It was uplifting, like a heavy weight had been lifted off of my shoulders for a moment.

"It's okay, Ghost." Jon took the miniature wolf and gave him a hug. "They're just jealous of you."

Ghost didn't seem convinced, until Jon began to scratch the back of his head soothingly. It was difficult to forget that Ghost was, what, two months old? If that?

I waited for the amused laughter to die down, before folding the map together and stowing back inside my enlarged pocket. I got to my feet and dusted myself off.

"You guys pack everything up." I said. "I'll go make a carriage. There's a forest out there so it should be easy to fashion it out of wood instead of creating it outright, myself."

"What's the difference?" Clegane asked as I began to move.

"Lasts longer, doesn't drain as much." I said easily, walking past the Muggle Repellent Charm and cancelling it with a quite _Finite_.

I stared out to a small forest to the east, watching the sun slowly rise behind it.

No time to lose.

I made my way down the hill, noting that moving was much easier when I was not suffering from debilitating pain— what were the odds of that?

I cut down a few trees with the Severing Charm, using it over and over to form the necessary planks to form the box.

It wasn't going to be a nice looking carriage, but it didn't need to be.

A few applications of the Sticking Charm removed the need for screws and nails, making my life much easier. I placed the planks of wood, side by side, before beginning to work on its sides. I figured the walls of the box had to be a few feet high, and adjusted the planks accordingly to make an entry way.

Okay, so far so good...

I had a box.

Next up, was wheels and the chassis. For wheels, I used magic to bend the wood's shape until it was as circular as I could make it, before cutting up even more wood, as I realized that the wheel wouldn't turn without the support on the inside— pretty easy, though a little time consuming.

The chassis, thankfully, was a much quicker task. Two bars of wood, one in the front, one in the back, each with a wheel on the side. Then, connect the two bars together with two more, going from the ends of the rear bar to the center of the front bar— with smaller bars to hold the frontal side together.

With that done, I simply levitated the box onto the chassis, before sticking it there with the Sticking Charm.

After the all of that was the thing that hooked up with my horse.

" _Harness_." Erebus supplied.

"Yeah, that." I muttered. I would need Geryon here to do that, which meant I had to wait until they came here. There was still some work to be done on the matter. I made fixes here and there— such as actual seats, caps for the wheels so they don't just slide out of the bars I had put them in, Unbreakable Charms on the integral parts of the chassis and the wheels themselves, as well as coloring the whole thing a dark brown.

I backed away from my work and admired it from a distance.

"Not bad at all..." I said to myself.

" _It will suit the purposes of this trip._ " Erebus replied.

I scowled. "What do you think, Balthazar?"

 _§S'ok.§_ Balthazar piped up, still sounding extremely tired.

I ran my hand through my hair, before the sound of approaching footsteps reached my ears. I turned to see Jon and the others, carrying bundles of fur and the like, Geryon trotting over to me.

"Hey buddy." I patted his head. "You think you can drag this carriage for us?"

Geryon looked at the carriage, and then back at me, before nodding.

"Awesome, boy." I smiled, before motioning for him to stand where I was. The horse obeyed.

I went to work, removing his saddle and placing it in the carriage, before conjuring a decent enough harness, which I linked to the chassis.

"Try dragging it." I said. Geryon complied and easily dragged the carriage— as if the weight wasn't even there. Perfect. I watched as he ran long circles around me, testing the thing behind him out, understanding how far he can turn before the hole thing went upside down.

And then, he came back to me.

I smiled, and rewarded the mighty steed with a carrot, before turning to the rest.

"Okay, before you get on..." I conjured a few cloaks and handed them to Sansa.

"Wear these on the way to the inn, we won't get recognized as easily— if at all." I said, and helped them get situated in the back rows. One for Sansa and Arya, and one for Jon and the Hound. I would sit at the front.

"No reins or whips, Blackscale?" Clegane asked curiously, ignoring the horse's snort of challenge at his words.

"No need." I said easily, patting my buddy's side. "Geryon and I are partners. Isn't that right, buddy?"

A whinny for an answer. I smiled and took my position.

"You guys ready?" I asked and got positive grunts in reply. "Okay, let's go."

Geryon snorted and began to tug at the carriage as it began its roll on the uneven, rocky terrain— though none felt it on the carriage.

The wonders of magic.

We headed west for a while, going over all sorts of terrain until I saw a castle in the distance— Hayford Castle, I realized.

"There's Hayford Castle." I said.

"Aye." Clegane said from the back. I glanced back for a second.

Arya and Sansa wore their cloaks already, their hoods down, though I could easily tell they seemed shaken. Jon was napping in the back row, while Clegane looked uncomfortable in his own cloak.

I smiled at the girls. "Don't worry, it'll be all right. I'm definitely going to get you to Winterfell." Then, I turned to Geryon. "Go a little to the right, buddy; that way we can hit the Kingsroad at a better angle and avoid the castle, just in case someone's lying in wait, there."

Geryon gave a snort and began to slowly turn to the right, steadily changing our direction from westward to north-west.

A few minutes later, we merged onto the Kingsroad, and I grinned.

"So, how much do you reckon it'll take us to get to the Ivy Inn?" I asked.

"Two days, maybe." Clegane said. "Hayford is half a day's ride from King's Landing, and Ivy Inn is farther than that by at least five times."

I gave a hum of acknowledgement. "Okay, you heard that, Geryon? Half a day to the Ivy Inn."

"Have you gone deaf, Blackscale?" Clegane said in irritation. "I said—Woah!"

Geryon began to channel his strength and _sprinted_ , easily dragging the carriage along with him as we reached a speed five times as much as the typical horse.

I sneaked a glance to the back and saw the wonderment— delight, in Arya's case— of my passengers, as they watch their surroundings pass up by at a speed they'd never thought was possible.

What was even more amazing, was the fact that the carriage still felt as comfortable as it did standing still.

Clegane scrunched his hideous face under his hood, though I didn't see it, and began to mutter. "Shouldn't be surprised. He creates food and drink, shrinks things, creates carriages, and the horse is as strong as ten other horses combined. What else, he has a pet dragon?"

Check on everything except the dragon— that would be later, when I reached the Ivy Inn, I thought to myself.

The trip ended up taking a bit less than ten hours, though it could have been even shorter if we didn't have to slow down in the village of Brindlewood, a bit after the halfway point between Hayford Castle and the Ivy Inn.

If we'd barrelled right through, that would've been easily noticeable. Luckily, we simply rode our way past the village, and no one tailed us.

I suppose it made sense. Everyone at King's Landing was most likely still reeling, and haven't sent anyone out, yet. Or. they have, and we simply were too fast for them, as it would take over a day and a half's ride, nonstop, to get from King's Landing to Brindlewood alone; another day to get to the Ivy Inn.

Still, there were other threats in this medieval shithole.

Jon and I had killed those magical assassins— who could _change faces_. They were the Faceless Men from Braavos, I realized. I had stumbled upon them when I was researching all things magical, and they had come up as an infamous guild of assassins whose services must have cost a fortune.

How much did Cersei pay for them? I wondered if she could afford more. Or, would the guild of assassins take it as a personal insult and hunt me down?

I didn't know, and I didn't want to find out anytime soon.

But, yes, we'd made it to the Ivy Inn. Jon had woken up halfway through, only to fall asleep again. The rest hadn't managed much. Arya had slept a few hours, while Sansa only managed a bit less than thirty minutes. I wasn't even sure Clegane was capable of sleeping— he'd been awake every time I checked.

I had managed to sneak in a couple of hours, trusting Geryon to see us part of the way through without any guidance— and he did not disappoint. How could anyone screw up sticking to one road, anyway?

We entered the small village, really just another set of worn wooden buildings who looked like a good breeze would rip them to shreds, with a few men tending to their farms, and women knitting and cleaning, and stopped at a building covered in ivy.

As if that wasn't enough of a hint, there was an actual sign saying:

 **"IVY INN"**

I turned to see Jon jostling his sisters awake as Clegane got off the carriage. The bags under his eyes had disappeared completely, and he moved with a lot more fluidity and strength.

If he wasn't already fully healed, he would be, and soon.

It seemed to be getting close to night time, again. After a few grumbles, everyone got off the carriage and went inside the inn as I set on putting Geryon in the stables. I unhooked the harness, looked around to make sure the coast was clear, and shrunk the entire carriage so that it was the size of a peanut, before pocketing it.

"Geryon." I said to my companion, who didn't look tired in the least, even after ten hours of riding and dragging us along with him. "I'm going to need your help soon, so eat up."

Then I gave Geryon an Engorged carrot and left him to devour it, going inside the inn.

There was barely anyone here, I noted as I saw Jon handing the innkeeper some silver coins and exchanging pleasantries with him.

He then turned to me.

"I got us a couple of adjacent rooms. One for Sansa and Arya. One for you, me and him." Jon informed me as the innkeeper led the way. The rooms were on the ground floor. I glanced around the common room he was leading us out of.

Two entrances, easily defensible in case of any sudden attack.

With any luck, nothing would happen while I was visiting the Isle of Faces. I decided that I would do that tonight, rather than tomorrow. That way, no time would be wasted.

"Here are your rooms, friends." The innkeeper smiled and went back to wiping a mug at his bar. My lips quirked upwards, comparing the innkeeper with the stereotypical bartender from the Old West. The resemblance was uncanny.

I shook off my amusement and we entered our rooms, but not before making sure everyone had enough to eat. With that done, I surreptitiously threw a stunner at Clegane, who was lying on his bed. The flash of red light impacted him, making sure he would remain unconscious for a good while.

Until morning, at the very least, if I took his exhaustion into account.

"Why..." Jon started, but I shook my head.

"He wasn't sleeping one bit." I said. "He'd be useless to us in a fight if he went on like that."

Jon gave a nod of understanding as he ate his bread slowly. Ghost was lying on the bed, drooling off the side as he immediately fell asleep on the comfy bed.

"I'm heading to the Isle of Faces." I said, smiling at the shrunken direwolf slightly.

" _Now?_ " Jon asked incredulously.

I gave a short nod. "Can you watch over the rest of them? I don't think this will take long. If it does, then I'll just give up and come back."

Jon sighed and gave his consent. "I'll be waiting for you."

He extended his fist.

I bumped it.

"Don't worry." I smiled, and went through the room's exit, speaking as I closed the door. "I'll be back before you know it."

The door's closed with a click, and I took a breath, before walking outside of the inn, and to the stables again, where Geryon stood there, already waiting for me.

I quickly put the saddle on the powerful stallion, and we rode northwards, out of the village.

Following the map, I told Geryon to go north-west of our current position. The faithful steed took off at maximum speed, easily twice as fast as the speed he had when pulling the carriage. I held on to the reins— more for remaining on the saddle than actually steering.

We eventually reached an unnamed village— I wasn't sure if the writer of the map simply didn't know the name of the village, or that it simply didn't have a name. I supposed it didn't matter.

The important bit, was that the village rested on the shore of the God's Eye, the lake surrounding the Isle of Faces. I got a few strange looks from the local villagers, who were already turning in for the day.

"Excuse me." I stopped next to a woman who was about to enter her home.

"Yes? Can I help you?" The villager answered warily.

"Do you know anyone that can ferry me to the Isle of Faces?" I asked.

"No, I don't." The villager replied, looking irritated and muttering about foreigner idiots always wanting to go to the Isle, before she slammed the door.

I blinked.

So I knocked on another door, and another, and another, and ano—

"What is it?" A gruff man, in his late thirties asked.

"Do you know anyone who can ferry me to the Isle of Faces?" I asked for the millionth time.

"You're lookin' at him." The man replied. "But it's late in the night. Come by tomorrow."

He tried to close the door, but I stopped him.

"You think you can get me there right now?" I asked, and pulled out two gold dragons. His eyes widened at the amount— it was likely more than he made in a year.

"I—" The man stared before regaining his wits. "Yes."

"Good." I smiled, and gave him one coin. "You'll get the second one when you take me back."

We made our way up the muddy shore of God's Eye, on our way to where I assumed the man's boat was. I could hear the sound of crows everywhere as we finally reached his boat. It wasn't the best of crafts, but it would do well enough.

I left Geryon there, with express orders to wait for me, though I pretended to tie him to a tree to avoid the boatman's strange looks.

The crossing was a slow, and silent affair— though I managed to speed it up with a few animation charms on the boat itself. The boatman would likely believe that the waters were simply cooperative this day.

We arrived at the Isle of Faces, and I immediately understood why it was called such. Even as I disembarked from the boat, I could see the huge forest made purely out of weirwood trees. I could feel the energy in the air, similar to the barrier I felt in Winterfell, but on a different scale of power altogether.

"How long do you want me to wait?" The boatman asked as I began to walk away from him.

"As long as it takes, friend." I smiled back. "The money I'm offering you will last you years in terms of food and lodgings— either that or a few fun nights at an expensive brothel."

The boatman simply nodded in response, excited at the prospect of making bank.

After a minute of walking or so, I pulled my wand out. " _Point Me Balerion's Egg_."

My wand jerked a bit to the right.

I followed its path, making my way through the white and red forest— a strange sight, as I was accustomed to brown and green. The faces carved into the trees looked unpleasant, but I simply couldn't help but get the feeling that I was perfectly _safe_ in this domain.

Perhaps not from other vanilla humans, but definitely from any magical ones.

A few minutes later, I reached what seemed to be a temple of sorts— only it was made out of weirwood. Perhaps temple was not a good way to describe this place; it just looked like a big house, with plenty of mats inside.

What was more interesting was the small group of men, dressed in green robes and wearing what seemed to be horned headdresses.

"Welcome, Harry Potter of the Blackscale. Our ally, the Bloodraven, has spoken highly of you." One of them stepped forward. "How may the Green Men assist you?"

Huh. That's a relieving change in pace for once. Though who the hell was the Bloodraven?

"Ah, I believe you simply refer to him as the three-eyed Raven." The Green Man said.

I gave a nod of thanks and stated simply. "I'm here for Balerion's egg."

The Green Men now looked at me with far more intensity than they had a second ago. The atmosphere around us— the wards of this island, I realized— reacted in response to their behavior, and it felt like my soul was laid bare.

"...How do you know of it?" The same man said calmly, dangerously.

"I was told to come here and retrieve it." I said simply.

"Told by whom?"

"Aegon the First." I said. "I met his ghost in the chamber which held the skeletons of all the dead dragons. He told me where to find the egg, and he told me how to hatch it."

They said nothing, so I took that as my queue to continue.

"I know what's north of the Wall." I continued, noting their uneasy looks. "The Others, they bring death and destruction with them. With the help of a dragon, I could help turn that around."

If it's anything I learned from what happened to me at King's Landing, it's that I had the tendency to overestimate my own strength, and underestimate my enemy's.

No more. I would need all the help I could get.

"So, can I have it?"

Silence.

 _You may._ I heard a familiar voice sing in the air around me.

"Raven." I greeted as the Green Men began to whisper among themselves. "We meet again."

 _Indeed._ Raven replied. _It has been quite some time since we spoke last._

"Yes." I said. "I journeyed to King's Landing— total shit hole, by the way."

 _All too true. It was that way, even back when I was Hand of the King._ Raven agreed, not caring if he revealed anything about himself, as one of the Green Men approached me with a light blue, scale covered egg. _Balerion's egg. If I had known the secrets of hatching it— or even its location— I would have attempted to hatch it, myself. But, it is yours now._

"Thanks." I said as I held the egg awkwardly. I would have to conjure a sack for it, before I went back to the boatman. The less he saw, the better. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to go, now."

 _Ah, yes._ Raven spoke softly. _Accompanying the Stark children back to their home_.

I stiffened and answered in a clipped positive.

 _Be at ease, Harry Potter._ Raven tried to placate me. _The forests speak to me, sometimes. With your presence in this world, my powers have even increased to catch snippets from non magical woods. I have been watching over you to the best of my ability._

I supposed that was all right, even if I didn't trust the being behind the voice all that much. He could watch but he couldn't tell anybody.

"Right." I said, and turned to leave, my dragon egg by my side. "I'll be going now. Thank you for the egg."

"Think nothing of it." The spokesperson of the Green Men said. "It is our duty to aid in the fight against the Long Night, in whichever way we can."

I nodded, and walked away, conjuring a knapsack for my egg when I was out of sight of the Green Men. I placed the egg inside and tied the sack to my back..

 _I wish you good fortune on your endeavours, Harry Potter._ Raven gave me his parting words, before I felt his presence slowly fade. _You will need it._

"Tell me something I don't know, stupid Raven." I muttered to myself as I made my way back to the boatman.

I smirked as a thought occurred to me.

"Hagrid would be green with envy if he knew I was going to hatch a dragon, just like he did." I smiled to myself as I thought of better days. "Though I am _not_ calling the dragon Norbert."

 _§How about Orochi?§_ Balthazar piped up.

 _§Fully awake, are you?§_ I asked as I made my way back to the boat. _§And, no. That's a stupid name. Orochi is a snake deity, not a dragon.§_

 _§Um, Zoma?§_ Balthazar asked again.

 _§No.§_

 _§Baramos?§_ Balthazar tried.

 _§No.§_

 _§Divinegon?§_ Now it was just getting ridiculous.

 _§No— Are you just naming boss monsters from Dragon Quest? How do you even_ know _what that is? I'm the gamer, here. Not you.§_

 _§Okay, I've got a name. For real this time.§_

 _§What?§_ I hissed back in irritation.

 _§Slimedragon, since the egg is blue, maybe the actual dragon is blue like a slime.§_ Balthazar reasoned.

 _§Just shut_ up _, Balthazar.§_

 _§But—§_

 _§No! Go back to sleep._ _§_

Balthazar hounded me the rest of the way back to the boat.


	21. Full Circle

**The poll results** are as follows, so far:

Daenerys Targaryen: 154.

Arianne Martell: 28.

Val: 20

Margaery Tyrell: 19

With the rest being negligible. So I guess **Dany wins the poll~** Viva la democracy.

 **oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning**  
 **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover**  
 **By Zero Rewind**  
 **© 2016**  
 **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 21: Full Circle**

I sighed as I disembarked from the boat, where Geryon was already for me at the muddy shore of the God's Eye. The trip was silent, though not uncomfortable. I could tell the boatman was quite ecstatic— who could blame him?

I had essentially just given him enough money to last him a few years— either that or a fun night with STD riddled hookers.

I adjusted my knapsack slightly, before shaking hands with the boatman and giving him a quick farewell.

"Thank you again!" I heard as I mounted Geryon.

"No problem." I smiled back, and Geryon began to trot away. "Take care of yourself."

I waited until I was outside of the village before pulling my wand out and incanting. " _Tempus_."

Energy gathered before me as white wisps of light, it said:

 **"11:52 PM"**

I nodded to myself, before cancelling the spell and urging Geryon to rush back to the Ivy Inn. The trip back took longer than before, but I really wasn't surprised.

Geryon had dragged a carriage for around ten hours, before taking a slight break and outright sprinting to the village at the God's Eye's shore. It was normal that he would be tired at this point.

I smiled softly as the village around the Ivy Inn came into view, though the streets were deserted as it was almost midnight— people were sleeping, after all.

Geryon's sprint slowed to a light trot as we entered the village and made our way to the ivy-covered building. I dismounted the tired horse, before leading him to the stables and giving him another Engorged carrot.

Geryon nudged me affectionately and began to devour the huge vegetable. I snorted in amusement and left him to it, going through the Ivy Inn's entrance. There were even less people in the common room.

The innkeeper was busy putting all his booze in a box. Most likely, he would haul it somewhere no one could steal it. One could never be careful in this world. Literally anyone could show up and try to steal his stuff.

Though, for tonight, I doubted anything would happen. The only one currently inside here was bloke, drinking away his worries in the back. His face was coarse, though it was well hidden behind a thick and matted black beard.

From his tattered black cloak and leather, I assumed he either liked the color black, or he was part of the Night's Watch. Though, what would someone from the Night's Watch be doing here? I thought those fucks were killed if they were deserted.

We exchanged glances for a few moments before I looked away. Well, he certainly wasn't scared of me. So, that meant he was either brazen enough to walk in public after desertion, or that he hadn't deserted at all. A recruiting job, perhaps?

I didn't care either way, I thought as I made my way back to my rented room, turning the handle and pushing it open, revealing Jon, who was absently petting the shrunken Ghost and staring out the window until he heard the door open.

Clegane was out like a light, snoring like there was no tomorrow. Sheesh.

I waved my wand at him. " _Silencio_."

The snoring disappeared.

We exchanged greetings as I closed the door and made my way to my own bed.

"Well?" Jon asked a little eagerly as I took my place on the bed, feeling the soft mattress underneath and sighing in slight relief. I closed my eyes and languished in the comfort. "Did you get it?"

I gave a short nod, before opening my eyes and reaching into my knapsack, pulling the blue scaled egg out.

Jon's eyes were glued to it, as I set it on my bed and gazed at it curiously, running my fingers over it. The blue pattern on the egg was beautiful, resembling more like brilliant sapphires rather than the metallic feeling scales they were.

Still, there was something else.

A sort of energy within them.

It resonated with mine, though I could feel it was different. Not stronger, but wilder. More ferocious.

"It's amazing." I heard Jon say as he approached it, leaving Ghost behind on his bed. "Can I?"

I gave him a short glance and nodded. He grasped the blue scaled egg with both hands and lifted it.

"It's heavy, heavier than I was expecting." Jon said softly staring at the egg with an unreadable expression. "The legacy of House Targaryen."

I felt a little guilty at that.

Maybe I shouldn't be the one taking it.

"You could still have it, if you want it..." I offered.

Jon didn't answer, only staring at the egg, long and hard.

"Jon." I said after a few seconds.

He closed his eyes, before letting out a deep breath.

"No." He said handing the egg back to me and resuming his seat on the bed. "I am a Stark, before Targaryen. You can have it."

"Are you sure, Jon?" I asked uneasily. "This egg... It's part of your birthright. Aegon himself even said it. You are his descendant."

"I know." Jon said, looking conflicted for a moment, before shaking his head and lifting the great sword, Ice, from the side of the bed. It glowed with blue fire, for a few moments, before he reined the power back in. "But, Ice has chosen me— and I possess a Fire of my own. I need no dragons."

He smiled, set Ice back down, and held Ghost close to him again. "Not when I have Ghost, here, anyway."

I took in his words, and realized he was definitely not budging on this— months of spending time with the fellow teen allowed us to read each other's moods quite well.

I nodded.

"All right, then." I said, and hefted the egg. "Guess Spawn is all mine."

"Spawn?" Jon looked irritated. "You're naming your dragon Spawn?"

"What?" I asked, feeling a little defensive. "It's a cool enough name."

"That's like naming me 'offspring'." Jon snorted. "Or 'child'."

"I—well— I mean you're right, but—" I huffed. "Well, you name him, then."

"It's your dragon, you name it."

I groaned in a mix of irritation and amusement, before putting the egg back in its knapsack and putting it aside, and lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as we both maintained a comfortable silence.

"Hey, Harry?" Jon said after a few minutes.

I sat up slightly, stretching tiredly. "Yeah?"

"Did Father..." Jon said, before hesitating. "When you found him, was he already gone?"

"Ah, no." I sighed. I was hoping we could wait until we got to Winterfell before broaching the subject of Ned. It still hit too close to home— people around me invariably managed to die, no matter what. "He was still alive. I don't even know how, with all of that blood... But he held on, through sheer willpower."

A long silence passed.

"I—" Jon choked on his words. "Did he— I can't even form the words."

He cursed.

I sighed and steeled myself. Jon deserved to know this. He deserved to know what happened to his father.

"His throat was cut, but he still lived on." I said, in a monotone— but with an undercurrent of fragility. It hurt to talk about this. "I tried to heal him, but the effect of the healing was superficial at best. He could talk, but not much else."

Jon was quiet.

I trembled slightly as the image of Ned, trying to speak but failing flashed in my mind. "He knew he didn't have long to live. The first thing he said were your names. You, Arya and Sansa. He tried to tell me that he wasn't your father— but I told him you already knew, and that you still loved him despite all that. He gave me Ice, and then told me to either give to you or Robb. He was smiling. And then, he just closed his eyes."

I wiped the moistness out of my eyes, clamping down on it with force.

This was not the time to lose control.

I had to be strong.

I promised Lord Ned I'd get his family back to Winterfell, safely.

"Thank you for telling him." Jon said, looking down and sniffling slightly. "And thank you, for making his passing as comfortable as you could manage."

If only I could've done more than that...

I took a deep breath, wishing the tightness in my chest would lessen.

"It's my fault." I said out loud.

"What?" Jon asked. "How could you have expected this?"

"I should have." I said, shaking my head. "It's my fault they're all dead. Lord Ned, Jory, and the rest of the guard."

"It's not your fault." Jon insisted.

"If I hadn't testified against Cersei and gone through the trial of combat that got her hand chopped off, none of this would have happened." I shot back. "She sent Faceless Men at us, Jon. She made it look like Lord Ned invited the King to the Tower of the Hand so that he could kill him. All because of revenge against us for what happened."

"Don't be foolish." Jon retorted with a heated glare. "Bran almost died because of her, and she faced justice because of it! You did nothing wrong."

His words were true, but I couldn't help but feel that they rang hollow.

There was a soft knock on the door, interrupting our argument.

There was furious wiping of the faces, before Jon and I said "Come in." At the same time.

The door opened, revealing a distraught Arya, and Sansa. Both looked to be on the verge of tears.

"C—Can we stay here, tonight?" Sansa asked, looking a mix of weepy and terrified. Her eyes were red from crying, and she looked disheveled. Arya, the disheveled look being the norm for her, merely looked ridiculously sad, though she tried to remain strong for her sister.

"Yes. Of course." Jon said immediately, getting off his bed and motioning for them to sleep on it, instead.

"Where will you sleep?" Arya asked worriedly.

"I'll make my bed bigger." I said quickly, pulling out my wand and doing just that. The bed grew under the Engorgement Charm, increasing its size by fifty percent, large enough to fit the both of us, but not so large that we couldn't even move around any longer. "There. That should do it."

The two girls nodded gratefully, before climbing into bed with each other.

Perhaps having stay in a room on their own was not such a smart idea. I hid a wince as I watched the two frightened girls attempt to sleep. Before all of this happened, Arya and Sansa couldn't get away from each other fast enough.

Now, they were clinging to each other like they were each other's lifeline.

I supposed the death of the father would induce such a reaction in the father's children.

If Ned were here to see his daughters now, I had no doubt that he would be proud.

"Rest up." I said to everyone, before waving my wand at the door. " _Pati."_

The door glowed slightly, before dimming back into nothing.

"Nothing will break through that door." I assured them as I stowed my wand away. "I promise."

I briefly considered throwing stunners onto the two, before dismissing it, as the two girls began to relax. I nodded to myself, and laid back on the bed, and tried to catch some sleep.

Surprisingly enough, I fell asleep quite quickly.

I woke up, much later, to the sound of crows and swans. I shifted slightly to the right, getting a little more comfortable in the bed as I slowly came back to the world of consciousness, a light hum reaching my ears, but I couldn't decipher what it was.

As my senses gradually returned to me, I realized the noise was simply the hustle and bustle of the inn. I opened my eyes blearily and looked around, letting them adjust to my surroundings.

"Finally awake?" I heard an amused voice from my side, and turned my head to see Jon, sitting between his sisters, while Clegane was nowhere to be seen. "Took you long enough."

I yawned, before sitting up, and stretching to work all my kinks out.

"Where's Clegane?"

"He's getting drunk." Jon answered easily, shaking his head.

"All right." I smirked slightly.

Breakfast was a comfortable, and quick affair. The Engorgement Charm was getting practically second nature at this point, I noted as we all fed ourselves and drank— though Arya and Sansa drank watered down wine, instead.

Arya drank it with a grimace, saying she preferred beer, but Sansa seemed to enjoy the wine well enough.

I stopped for a moment to realize I was giving alcohol to young children, before I threw that idea to the side. Their father had just died and they were wound up tighter than a ten day clock. Some alcohol would be good for them.

"So, we go straight from here to the Crossroads Inn." I said between munches. "It took about ten hours of riding, including breaks to pee and eat, to get from Hayford Castle to here."

I pulled out the map, and checked the locations, making estimations on the time it would take to get to our next destination.

"Crossroads Inn is more than double the distance from Hayford to here." I muttered loud enough for everyone to here as my fingers traced the routes. "The next leg of the trip would take a bit over a day, though we'd have to sleep in the wild."

"Not really a concern with you around." Jon said easily, going over the map, as well. "After the Crossroads Inn... Around a week's worth of travel to arrive at Winterfell, provided Geryon continues to run at this speed."

"Agreed." I nodded.

"Why waste the time to stay at an inn?" Sansa piped up. "Though we may be under disguise, there is still a chance we may be recognized."

Jon smiled in her direction, before turning back to me. "Sansa's right, Harry. There's no need for us to stay at inns; it will only get us some unwanted attention. We may be faster than those chasing us, but ravens can fly quickly, as well. We can't avoid everyone, forever."

I frowned in thought. "Yes. Good point. What's a little roughness compared to increased chances of survival?"

"Exactly." Jon said, as I folded the map back up, and put the knapsack on, before reducing the bed's size back to normal.

"You guys ready?"

Silence.

I turned to see them already exiting through the door.

"Guess that's a yes." I followed them through.

We found Clegane, drinking whole mugs in one gulp. I wondered if he could beat Tyrion Lannister in a drinking contest.

"You coming?" I smacked him on the back before moving outside, ignoring his sputters.

I found Geryon at the stables, nudging another one of the horses— a white mare, I realized.

"Okay, lover boy." I interrupted his fun, and he rewarded me with an annoyed shove.

"None of that." I said easily, looking him straight in the eyes. Geryon relented. "Good boy. Come on. We have to get going."

A nod.

I found Clegane already with the rest of the group, and we all slowly made our way to the northern outskirts of the village. It was full of people going about their daily business, so I wasn't going to Engorge a carriage right in front of them— had to exit the village.

Finally, when the coast was clear, I pulled out the shrunken carriage from one of my pockets before restoring its original size and hooking it up to Geryon. The rest wasted no time and got on the carriage as I worked.

"All right." I said, before taking my seet and signaling for Geryon to move.

We were jostled slightly as Geryon began his run, but aside from that, the ride itself became smooth, even as the wind buffeted us and our surroundings flew right by. Actually, maybe I could...

I waved my wand, tapping the side wall of the box. The strong winds disappeared.

"Good." I smiled, and pocketed my wand back. "Bubble-Head Charm is the best thing in the universe."

"Anyway!" I turned to the rest. "Some of you might not be aware, and by some of you I mean Clegane, but we've decided not to sleep at inns to save time and avoid detection."

"Then, why'd we stay at the Ivy Inn?" Clegane asked immediately.

"Honestly, we were all exhausted and mentally drained—"

"Speak for yourself." I heard Clegane mutter but kept going.

"—so a nice bed and four walls would've been a very comforting sight to us. But, that option was only viable because Geryon is a ridiculously fast horse, and word has not yet reached about our grand escape. But that will happen very, very soon." I warned. "If we're lucky, we'll evade all of their trackers through Geryon's sheer speed. If not, we might have to fight. In either case, we can't stay at any inns, otherwise we risk detection."

Sandor grunted in irritation but nodded in acceptance regardless. "Not much choice."

"Exactly." I said. "The trip to Winterfell will probably take around a week, assuming we don't get sidetracked."

"One week!?" Clegane scoffed. "Impossible, it would take—" He stopped and shook his head. "Right. _Magic_."

I quirked an amused grin at the hideously scarred man, but only gave a nod of confirmation in return.

"We'll rest up a few times a day, to eat and answer the nature's call—"

"What's that?" Arya interrupted with a confused frown. "Are you going to speak to trees?"

"He means pissing, Underfoot." Jon answered easily, rolling his eyes.

"Oh." Arya said. "All right."

I gave the young girl a smile, before continuing. "Back to what I was saying. We'll stop to eat and sleep, before resuming the course. Luckily, Geryon can ride for ten hours straight at this current speed without tiring out, so I'm going to make full use of that."

"That's about it." I nodded, my eyes un-focusing as I checked to see if there was anything I didn't say, before focusing back on the rest of them. "Any questions?"

No one said a word.

"Good."

The trip passed without much incident. The days were dull, and monotonous. All we did was sit on the benches, play some cards— conjured by yours, truly— and talk about anything and everything.

During our breaks, I taught Arya how to play hopscotch, as well as other games like jump rope, and was surprised when Sansa joined in. Jon would watch us as he fed the cute, shrunken Ghost some meat— rabbit meat I had placed preservation spells on and Engorged.

If I concentrated hard enough, I could almost pretend that this was simply a fun, camping trip— you know, if I ignored the death and destruction that happened around me, either by my hand or the hands of my enemies; and the fact that these enemies wanted all of us dead, for the threat we posed to their power base.

Surprisingly enough, though, we never did get ambushed. I most likely had overestimated the response to our escape.

But then again, after almost dying from poison and fighting supernatural assassins, could anyone blame my extreme caution?

The bogs and swampland in the Neck were pretty unpleasant, but not an issue, since I had magic. Any obstacles were quickly taken care of, whether it was the road's disrepair. Luckily, the carriage never got stuck in the bog, due to Geryon's enhanced strength.

Even so, a few waves of my wand, and the problem would have been fixed, regardless.

Once we had crossed through the Moat Cailin undetected— a large area Disillusionment Charm, followed by Summoning and Banishing Charms to open gates, and move other people and obstacles aside— we all breathed a sigh of relief.

Except Clegane. That guy was very quiet, for a supposed fiendish attack dog borderline rapist.

Maybe all the rumors weren't what they were hyped up to be. Sure, he'd most likely killed, but in this world, I doubted you would get anywhere in life without killing hundreds of motherfuckers.

Everyone killed everyone here. It was just the way of life— and death.

It took another two days for us to reach Winterfell, and the Stark children got more and more excited as they entered further and further into their homeland, relishing in the familiar cold temperatures and the soft snow covering the lands.

Winterfell finally came into view as we went over a familiar looking hill— the same hill on which I had first laid eyes on the castle. I was right back where I had started.

" _Oddly fitting._ " Erebus said. " _What do the modern humans call it? We've gone full circle."_

" _Agreed._ " I thought back to the sentient blade as I laid my eyes on the welcoming sight.

It looked just as impressive as the first time I'd seen— made all the more majestic by my adventures in King's Landing, what with the all encompassing stench of human and animal refuse, as well as the corruption at all levels, and many other things.

Even with its wears and tears, the sight was welcoming.

Winterfell stood strong. It was solid, and powerful, just like the family this land belonged to.

"We're home..." Sansa sounded like she couldn't believe it.

"Yes." Jon said, smiling at the sight of their steadily approaching home. "You see, Underfoot? We made it."

"We made it." Jon repeated and grunted as the girl in question hugged him tightly, before standing and looking hopefully at her home.

"State your reason for ent— the Ladies Stark!" The guard at the gate had started sternly, but sputtered out as Sansa and Arya lowered their hoods. "Blackscale, and Snow! What are you doing here?"

"Linden." Jon greeted. "There's no time to waste, we must speak with Lady Catelyn and Robb."

"But... I— Right, of course." He started but immediately complied after a surreptitious wave of my wand. He stood aside and the carriage rolled past him, into the stronghold of Winterfell. We passed by the tall walls and made our way through, the residents quickly recognizing us. We stopped the carriage at the courtyard, and began to disembark.

"All right, let's go find—"

"What are you all doing here?" I heard a familiar, gruff old voice say in shock. He looked bewildered, though by our disheveled looks, beaten demeanor, and the unmistakable sword on Jon's back, as well as the presence of the Hound, he was probably piecing it all together.

However slowly.

We all shared a glance, before I took a step forward.

"Ser Rodrik." I greeted.

"Harry." He greeted back. "What are you all doing here? Where is Lord Stark?"

"We need to see Robb, or the Lady Stark." I went straight to the point. "Terrible things have happened at King's Landing."

A few moments passed as realization dawned on him.

"Very well." He said, his face shifting to a solemn look as he lead the way. "Robb has been spending most of his days attending to his Lordly duties in the Great Hall, so that's where he should be. The Lady Catelyn has been assisting him in these matters, of course."

I gave grunt of acknowledgement as we opened the doors to the Great Hall, and saw Robb, sitting at the head table, face scrunched up in concentration as he read through documents of different kinds, trying to make sense of it all.

Maester Luwin stood nearby, patiently observing his Lord do his duties, while the Lady Catelyn rifled through papers of her own. Nearby, little Rickon was being entertained by both Shaggydog and Grey Wind, the two great beasts working together to keep the little boy distracted.

Bran and Summer were nowhere to be seen.

"Robb! Mother!" Sansa and Arya shouted at different intervals, gaining the attention of everyone and bolting to them like their lives depended on it.

The Lady Catelyn got over her shock and was almost about to bite their heads off for sneaking out of King's Landing without anyone's knowledge until the two girls glomped her, buried their faces into her and began to sob.

"I— what— " Lady Catelyn seemed at a loss for words, until her maternal instincts kicked in and she began to try her best to soothe her two girls, whispering gently to them.

Robb approached the two girls, unsure of what he was supposed to do in this situation, before being pulled in the impromptu family hug his sisters had initiated.

With a squeal, little Rickon joined in, barreling into them with a delighted laugh.

Jon looked on, stoically. So did I.

After a while, Robb managed to extricate himself from the rest, and made his way to us.

"What's going on?" He asked immediately. "Why are you here?" He looked at Jon, or rather, the sword at his back. "Why do you have Ice? Where's father?"

"Robb.." Jon wasn't even sure where to start.

"He's dead. Lord Ned gave Ice to Jon." I said simply. "Everyone is dead. We're the only ones that survived and made it here."

" _WHAT!?"_

 **oooooooooo**

Anyway, that's that for chapter 21.

I'd like to thank all of you who have been reviewing and giving me suggestions and the like.

For example, dragon names suggestions. I've already had a few, but would like to hear out a couple more before deciding. It doesn't have to be a mystical name entrenched in lore and myth. It doesn't even have to be a powerful name. It just has to be a name.

 **As for the scathing minority of you** who are angry that Harry got almost killed, well tough luck.

I remember getting the same reviews on Lightning Dragon's Roar, when Harry was forced into a similar situation in which he was absolutely powerless to stop bad things from happening to him. They were all pitching a fit because Harry wasn't wrecking everything in sight (as if he was doing such, before) and stated quite vehemently that they were going to stop reading my story— except my story got all the more popular when actual tension was introduced.

So, I will tell you the exact same thing I told those guys:

 **"You see what's in my hand?" _-shows empty hand-_ "In this hand, is the number of fucks I give about you not reading my story anymore."**


	22. Death and Life

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2016  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 22: Death and Life**

" _WHAT!?_ " Robb's shocked exclamation echoed in the Great Hall.

No one spoke for a few moments as Jon and I shared a glance, debating which of us would tell the tale.

"That's impossible!" Robb argued instantly. "We've received no such word from King's Landing, and you cannot have arrived here before the ravens."

Interesting to note; whoever was doing the plotting was keeping the ravens back, or had sent them way too late.

No matter.

"It took a week for us to get here." I said simply, motioning for Jon. "Give me the box."

Jon gave a nod and produced the coffin shaped box, ignoring Robb's continued exclamations of impossibilities. To be fair, he didn't know what I was capable of, so it was forgivable.

I took it and placed it on the floor. Jon and I backed away, before I cancelled the Shrinking Charm affecting it. The coffin quickly grew to its former size, though I kept it closed.

"You— What—" Robb stammered at the sight of my magic. "How did you do that?"

I stifled a wince as I recalled that Robb had never seen my magic in action, or even knew of its existence.

"How do you think Bran was miraculously healed?" I retorted.

"He— That was _you_?" Robb asked. "You—"

"Robb! _Listen_." I interrupted him with a glare. "Your father is in this coffin. He was killed."

Catelyn approached quickly, her two daughters still clinging to her, as Robb kept opening his mouth and closing it, before he mastered himself and gave a steely nod, turning to Maester Luwin.

"Take Rickon out of here." He ordered as he also approached the coffin. "He's too young to see this."

"Of course, Lord Robb." Maester Luwin said and led the crestfallen boy outside— likely he wanted more group hugs, not even realizing he would grow up never knowing his father.

We heard the faint sound of a door opening, and closing.

"Show me." Robb wasted no time. I gave a hesitant glance to Arya, and back at him, before nodding and detaching the coffin's top, revealing the deceased Lord Ned.

The preservation charm had held perfectly, keeping his body as fresh as possible. I felt my chest constrict at the sight of his still softly smiling face, covered and caked with blood. His wounds were as visible as day, his clothes completely soaked through with blood.

As expected, everyone reacted in a similar manner, gasping in shock and horror at the sight of their beloved father/husband. Their faces were stricken with grief as realization dawned on some, and cold, hard truth reasserted itself in others.

My own grief rose in response.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

And I told them what happened; everything but Jon's heritage— something he and I had agreed to keep quiet, for the time being, possibly forever. Jon didn't want to live the rest of his days, continually hounded by those who would either wish to put him on the Iron Throne, or use him to stir up dissent in the ranks.

I had to stop a few times to swallow the lump in my throat and fight my tears back, before finishing.

"It was the Lannisters, and that scum Baelish was in on it— I don't know if any others were involved." I said with barely suppressed rage. "It was all I could to grab Sansa and meet up with Jon, who'd helped Arya escape."

"Baelish." Catelyn choked, shaking her head. "Why?"

I wisely kept out of it— I'd heard rumors that he bragged about having fucked both Catelyn her sister Lysa, so he was probably of some value to her. To have him betray her and kill her husband, well...

Just then, I heard the large doors of the Great Hall open, revealing Bran already sprinting in, with Theon Greyjoy hot at his heel, trying to stop him.

"No, Bran!" Theon cried as he tried to keep up. "Maester Luwin said not to—"

The two froze in their tracks at the sight of the dead Eddard.

"No." Bran said, looking at his dead father in shock, before running to him. "No!"

"Bran, no." Robb grabbed his arm and held him back.

"Let me go!" Bran struggled, and it almost seemed like he was going to escape— no doubt thanks to the increased strength my injection of energy had given him when I'd healed him— but Robb held him back succesfully.

"No, Bran." Robb said. "He's gone. He's _gone_."

"No..." Bran's eyes landed on me. "Harry! You can do it."

I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly.

"You _can!_ " Bran insisted. "You healed me. Why can't you heal him?"

I said nothing.

"Why..." Bran turned and buried his face in his brother's chest and began to sob.

I turned and left, ignoring the cries behind me. I couldn't stay in there, anymore. I pushed the large door open, feeling the cold winds wash over me, and I welcomed them. I took a deep breath and relished in the cold for a few moments as I leaned back against the wall.

About a minute later, the door opened once more, revealing Clegane.

"Clegane." I said, swallowing another lump in my throat. "Do they want me to go back inside?"

"No." He shook his disfigured head. "I don't think the Starks would appreciate a stranger watching them mourn the Lord Eddard."

The door opened again, revealing Theon, whose eyes looked hollow as he just kept walking by. I didn't stop him.

"Of course." I nodded. "Let them mourn. He was their immediate family, after all."

"Couldn't stand the sight and sounds, either." Clegane said uncaringly. "The world's a shit enough place, already. Would rather avoid all of that."

I wanted to berate him, to scold him, but he had probably suffered more than anyone I knew. His whole life was defined by his disfigured face, and his strength as a fighter. He'd likely been shown nothing more but looks of disgust for the majority of his life.

He knew pain, and he had grown stronger, both physically and mentally, so that no one could belittle him ever again.

So, I let it go.

"So, what now?" I asked him. "What are you going to do, now?"

"Dunno." He answered. "Likely fight for the Starks in the war to come."

Yes. The war to come.

The door opened once more, revealing a teary eyed and weary Robb.

"Harry." He said and swallowed down his sadness for a moment, trying to keep his voice level. "Thank you for bringing my father back, and all my brothers and sisters."

"It was the least I could do. You all have been good to me. I'm just sorry I couldn't make it in time to save Lord Ned."

Robb said nothing for a while, most likely having no idea how to respond in this kind of situation.

"What will you do now?" I asked and watch his face morph into the hard face of his father.

"I will call the banners and make the Lannisters _answer_ for their crimes!" Robb said with cold fury, the fury of hundreds of Starks before him.

I nodded.

"Then we're with you." I gestured at myself and Clegane, before offering my hand.

He took it without hesitation.

"Thank you, and you as well, Clegane." Robb said, eyes shining, before he looked back at the Great Hall. "You're welcome to your quarters here, at Winterfell. You and Clegane."

"Appreciate it." Clegane answered simply.

"I have to go back inside, now." Robb said awkwardly, letting go of my hand.

I responded with a solemn nod. "Go ahead. There's a lot to be done..."

Robb waved it off and headed back inside, leaving us alone once more.

"Come on, Clegane." I sighed, and led the way. "I've got to get Geryon to the stables and then I'll show you my room."

"Sounds fine to me." He said.

We made our way back to the courtyard, where a servant still stood in wait, trying his best to keep Geryon in place— and failing miserably. Excited barks came from the horse's back; Ghost was doing a balancing act on Geryon's back.

I cleared my throat and watched as the servant stuttered apologies, before waving him off.

"Don't worry, you can go do whatever it is you were doing before." I said. "I'll get him to the stables."

The servant couldn't get out of there fast enough, too embarrassed to reply.

I sighed and grabbed the shrunken direwolf, setting him on the ground as I chided Geryon after bringing him to the stables. "I can't leave you alone for three seconds, can I?"

Geryon snorted, and shoved me slightly.

I ignored the friendly shove, instead pulling out my wand and cancelling the Shrinking Charm, watching the albino direwolf quickly grow back to his original size.

"There." I said, patting Ghost on the head. "Back to normal."

Ghost just barked.

"Go on, Ghost." I said. "I'm sure your brothers and sisters are excited to see you. Plus, Jon will need your comfort, right now."

Ghost answered by bolting to the Great Hall, shoving Clegane out of the way. The man in question stumbled and grunted but held his ground, swearing under his breath. Something about neutering mutts or whatever.

I turned my attention back to Geryon and idly wondered where Hodor was as I gave Geryon a handful of carrots.

"There." I said, patting the powerful stallion on the head. "That should cover you for a while, buddy."

Geryon gave me a nudge of affection before diving into his meal.

"Done?" Sandor's gruff voice asked.

"Aye." I replied, thinking about linguistics for a few moments before shaking my had. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."

The trip to my room had been quick, and short. My body was on autopilot, easily making my way to the guard quarters and passing by what I knew to be the group rooms, until I reached my own.

"Here it is." I said unnecessarily after going inside.

It was nothing special, it had three beds— one of which I used while the others simply took up space— a chair, and a table at the corner.

"Right." Clegane said, placing the bag he'd been lugging around with him on a bed and immediately leaving. "I'm going to the kitchens to see if they've got some chicken."

"Sure." I said easily and watched him leave, before placing my knapsack on the bed I had been using while I stayed in this room. I sighed, and lay my head back.

My heart was heavy with grief and righteous anger. My mind was filled with the endless possibilities on how to exact my revenge against Cersei, Baelish, and whoever else was behind this.

Who _else_ could have been involved? I had learned a lot from my time in King's Landing. Everyone seemed to hold secrets about something or the other. Information was more valuable than gold, with it being doled out very carefully.

Sometimes to gain favor with certain factions, or to condemn others.

Every other day, there was a story or another of some minor courtier being caught in a scandal and covering it up. So how was I supposed to know who was behind all this except those two?

" _Step by step_." Erebus whispered to me as I closed the door with a wave of my wand and began to brainstorm.

"You're right." I said slowly. "We have to deconstruct what happened that night."

I scrunched my eyes closed for a few seconds. I didn't even want to think about that night, but I had no choice.

I had to be strong.

" _Focus_." Erebus chided.

"The ambush was effective." I said. "If it were anyone other than me, that ambush would have been a success, and the coup would have gone without a hitch."

" _Perhaps the fool underestimated you._ " Erebus reasoned.

"He definitely did." I mused, staring at my left palm, where the arrow had punctured it. "Though, taking a poison filled arrow right through my hand, as well receiving various cuts from others as well as being beaten senseless— which is better than being impaled, but still hurts like a bitch— would do any normal person in."

 _"He always seemed to be the sort of person who disdained fighting, so it is not surprising that he wouldn't truly understand what you are capable of._ " Erebus added.

I only nodded in reply.

"The mercenaries took orders from Baelish." I said logically. "And Baelish took orders from Cersei. But how did she get Faceless Men to fight for her?"

 _§How do you get any assassin to assassinate somebody?_ § Balthazar scoffed. § _Money. The Lannisters shit gold, or haven't you heard?§_

"Yes, everyone seemed to like saying that in that shit hole of a city." I said in understanding. "He was able to see through my Disillusionment, and that was worrying. Still, at least I know I can beat the Faceless Men if the situation arose."

 _§So, who else?§_ Balthazar hissed.

I considered the possibilities. "I've heard rumors that the Grand Maester Pycelle was a Lannister supporter. He could have been feeding them information. Renly seemed more happy to be a social butterfly than to plot against his own brother. He had no reason to, anyway."

I stopped for a moment.

"Possibly the other brother, Stannis Baratheon?" I mused. "He never showed up to any of the meetings, instead holing up at Dragonstone, keeping himself off the grid. The only reason that would happen was because he was hiding something big, or was about to do something big."

" _Sketchy, but possible._ " Erebus opined.

"We already know Varys supports a Targaryen restoration." I said, remembering the night he had almost caught me. The eunuch seemed to have some magical potential, if he was capable of detecting my presence while Disillusioned.

Either that, or he had some really good senses— no, scratch that.

I had the Silencing Charm on. He was definitely magical, but likely didn't know it.

" _Meaning he either aided them, or simply let it happen._ " Erebus suggested.

"I have no doubt that this would be something he would do." I agreed with a nod. "He is of the ruthless kind, but then again, everyone is. Still, that doesn't exclude him from being a possible ally in the future."

I looked at my egg, currently hidden in the knapsack. "Targaryen restoration, huh. That Daenerys chick is still somewhere in the east, getting fucked by a horse lord or whatever. And her brother, too. I mean that he's with her, not that he's getting fucked by a horse lord."

 _"Yes, it was understandable the first time."_ Erebus replied and I got the feeling he was rolling his eyes.

 _§Are you suggesting we seek the remaining Targaryens out and broker some form of alliance?§_ Balthazar asked.

I shook my head.

"No." I said. "From what I've heard of these horse lords, they're a barbaric race of raiders and reavers. I doubt they would be of any use to us— not that I'd want to associate with their kind to begin with."

I sighed and ran my hand through my hair.

"I guess we just have to wait and see." I said wearily. "We just don't have enough information, but at least, the North can defend its borders easily. No one can cross the Neck, and an attack from sea is just as unlikely."

" _I would also advise keeping at least some of your attention north of the Wall."_ Erebus warned. " _Don't get too caught up in these people's politics._ "

I groaned, feeling another headache build.

More and more problems.

I had almost forgotten about the Others and their wights, so overwhelmed by current events and their consequences.

"Well, shit." I said dejectedly. "The entire trip to King's Landing was a failure. The whole deal was to build a name for myself, and gather people to join my group so we could fight against the Others. Instead, the entire Stark guards died, as well as Lord Ned _and_ the King. And, what the fuck did we get out of it?"

King's Landing, a city full of self serving liars and dickheads trying to stay in power. Dozens of people had lost their lives— and for what? Influence?

I could already tell the succession would be questioned in light of the suspicious circumstances of it all. Robb, for sure, would start his own rebellion.

Renly and Stannis Baratheon, possibly.

All of that would ensure that there was chaos in the kingdoms. They'd be a sitting target while the Others from the North North took their sweet time, building an army of their own.

My hand moved to the knapsack on its own. Perhaps the trip was not a total waste, after all.

I _did_ have this dragon egg.

"Tonight." I promised myself, and waved my wand over the knapsack, hiding it from view. "I'll hatch him tonight."

I ended up joining Clegane for dinner— the residents at Winterfell had been informed of what had occured to the Lord Stark, and the atmosphere seemed extremely subdued.

Jon had also joined us, informing me that Lord Ned was to be interred a day from now— and that I was personally invited to witness it, seeing as I had brought back his body, and all. He looked a lot older than his years, the light in his eyes gone as he silently mourned for his uncle's death, as well as all of our friends in the guard.

So, I attended, fixing up my clothes as best as I could; not that I needed to.

None of them were overly dressed.

The ceremony, itself, was simple, and to the point— much like Ned, himself.

There were no long sermons, no over the top speeches. Lord Ned's body was taken to the crypts of Winterfell, and we all followed and watched as his body was gently placed in his final resting place next to his deceased brother, sister and father.

He looked as regal as the Kings of Winter of old, wearing a new, leather suit of armor and holding a worn looking greatsword— apparently the sword he had used before receiving Ice.

Words were said, from Catelyn, Robb, and oddly enough, Jon.

Catelyn had given teary words of farewell, and then had to be gently pulled back from her husband's grave.

Robb looked lost as he muttered his own words, before his eyes gained a steely gaze.

Sansa, Bran, Arya and Rickon huddled next to their mother, all sad and all trying their hardest not to burst into tears at the sight of their dead father.

Jon had drawn his uncle's sword, Ice, and swore that he would not fail in exacting vengeance upon those who did this to him. Catelyn had given him a dirty look, but glanced at Robb and thought better of it.

Likely, she had demanded the return of the weapon, as it belonged to the House Stark, and not a bastard.

Something must have happened to change her, or more likely, Robb's mind on the matter.

Perhaps he had demonstrated the fact that the sword had chosen him as its wielder. Yes, that seemed to be the most plausible theory. He wouldn't have any ground to stand on without that simple event.

It didn't matter.

The sword was his, now.

The rest of the children were too distraught to give their own words— but that simply was proof of the unconditional love they held for their father.

I watched as the stone coffin made a grinding noise as it was closed up and sealed by Robb, himself. He ran his fingers over the coffin, staring at it with heavy sadness, and closing his fist so hard the leather creaked loudly before walking away.

Jon and I followed him outside, but he stopped us.

"I wish to be alone." Robb said tightly. "At least for a while. We shall speak further on the morrow."

Jon was about to say something, but I held him back and let Robb have his space. I figured he just wanted to beat on something until he exhausted himself. I could tell that Jon wanted to do the same.

And so, I dragged him to our usual training spot outside of Winterfell.

"What are we doing here?" Jon huffed, clearly agitated. "This isn't exactly the time to train."

"You're right. It's not." I agreed. "But we're not here to train, Jon. You need to release your anger, and this is the best way to do it; by fighting until you can't fight any more. Otherwise you'll retain your anger and let the _Lannisters_ win. They've already killed Lord Ned..."

Jon's eyes flashed in fury at the mention of the Lannisters and the killing of his father at their hands, before drawing his sword.

I drew Erebus in response.

Jon attacked with the great sword as if it possessed the same weight as a twig, swinging it quickly and furiously. I dodged every attempt, knowing that blocking a strike from a great sword with a falchion was highly unwise— not taking into account each weapon's capabilities.

His fire was used constantly, throughout the battle as he put everything he had into this fight. Every time he shot his flames or infused Ice in his blue fire, I would counter it with Erebus' inborn Darkness and control over the cold.

I countered another strong stream of his flames with a **Dark** **Stream** , countering and weathering the effects of his moves as best as I could. I wasn't trying to win, anyway. If I wanted to win, I would have already zapped the crap out of Jon.

No, I was simply letting Jon spend up all of his energy to tire him out and release all of his pent up frustration— but he was still keeping a cool head.

At least, that was until I grabbed him, slammed my fist into his face and sent him crashing into the dirt.

"Come on!" I snarled as he slowly got back up, dazed from the blow. "You can do better than that!"

That seemed to snap something in Jon, as his strikes became more furious and lethal, and his demeanor turned almost feral in response to the fresh wave of physical pain I had rewarded him with.

But, even with this new ferocity, he still couldn't do all that much to me. There were a few close calls, in which I made missteps in my attempts to dodge or attack, but I was never caught.

The next few minutes, Jon took it up a notch further, his strikes slamming into the ground so hard that Ice cut— and then scorched— right through the earth below us. I parried his downward swings, feeling the heat and the displacement of the air as it passed me by.

His technique grew sloppier as he descended further into his anger, and he began to repeat his same movements. After dodging two slashes, and parrying a third, I sidestepped a downward swing, got into his guard and smacked the blunt side of Erebus into Jon's hands.

Jon hissed in pain and Ice dropped out of his hands, hitting the ground with a thud; but, Jon was not done, I realized as I he slammed his head into mine with the full force of his enhanced strength, stunning me and allowing him to slam his fist in my cheek, sending me tumbling into the dirt.

The impact was jarring and painful, but I managed to minimize any of the damage done by rolling halfway through my tumble, letting go of Erebus so I wouldn't cut myself on my own sword.

Jon merely stared at me, panting in exhaustion as I got back up, a little damaged but otherwise fine.

"Better?" I sheathed Erebus.

Jon's feral gaze gradually dimmed back into his previous stoicism. He sheathed Ice.

"Aye." He walked past me and stared in the distance. "Thank you, Harry."

I grabbed his shoulder and gave it a firm, reassuring squeeze, staring out in the distance with him.

The sun was almost fully gone, at this point.

"What are you going to do with the egg you received at the Isle of Faces?" Jon asked suddenly.

I smiled. "I was actually about to bring that subject up."

"Yeah?" He asked.

I nodded.

"I'm going to hatch it, tonight." I said, before shaking my head. "Might as well get started on the preparations, now."

"Preparations?" Jon repeated.

"Yes, I have to prepare the necessary conditions for it to work; fire, blood, and l—" I began to explain, but Jon interrupted.

"Life, yes." Jon said, giving me a dangerous look. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Is there a choice?" I fired back. "You know what's waiting for us in the North North."

Jon rolled his eyes at the name, but I pressed on.

" _They_ are out there, right now." I said. "Building their army of the dead. The trip to King's Landing was supposed to be for us to gather allies to combat the coming forces of the Others at the Wall. But we're worse off than when we started. Now, the North is going to be busy rebelling against the Crown. Lord Ned is gone. Most of his guard is gone. The only addition to our ranks is _Sandor Clegane_ of all people. The egg is literally the only good thing to come out of this. I have to hatch it."

"And if your theory of simply using your own power to hatch the egg is wrong?" Jon asked pointedly.

"Then I'll use an animal as a sacrifice." I said easily. "Why should a man be any more special than a stag? In fact, wouldn't a stag possess much more life and vigor than a man?"

Jon nodded carefully, not really finding fault with such logic.

"And, if that fails?" Jon pressed.

Ah, so that's what he was asking me; if I would sacrifice people to hatch the egg.

"Then the egg will never hatch." I said immediately. "Not by my hand."

He looked at me for a long moment, before nodding in satisfaction.

"Go." He said. "I'll gather some wood for a fire, and come back here. You go get the egg."

"All right." I smiled, and we made our back to Winterfell, splitting up to complete our tasks. I walked on through the grounds of Winterfell, nodding at the servants, guards and workers as I passed them by. I entered the guard quarters and immediately seeked out my room, entering it with silent footfalls— not that I needed to be sneaky.

Clegane wasn't even here.

" _Probably enjoying some midnight fun at the brothel."_ Erebus clattered in his sheath as I waved my wand at my bed, making my knapsack fade into view as the Disillusionment Charm over it was cancelled.

"You're probably right." I said offhandedly as I took the egg and made my way back to Jon and I's training spot.

I found a few piles of firewood, enclosed in a circle of large rocks placed so that the ensuing fire didn't spread. At the sound of footsteps, I turned to see Jon carrying as many logs as he could hold in his arms, dumping them unceremoniously into the circle and dusting himself off.

"Think that's enough?" Jon asked, pointing at the pile of wood. I shrugged and made to rearrange the pile so that I could place my blue scaled egg at the center, before pulling said egg out of the knapsack.

"Blood." I said, holding the egg in my right hand as I held my left hand out for Jon. "Could you cut my palm?"

Jon stared at me for a few, uncertain seconds, before nodding and pulling out a small hunting knife. He approached me and held the blade over my palm.

"Ready?"

I nodded. "Do it."

His motion was swift. I felt the coldness of the knife before the spikes of pain erupted, my palm wetting itself with my lifeblood, painting it crimson. I smeared the blood over the egg, the metallic blue replaced by a vibrant red. I felt a pulse of power from within the egg as I placed it in the center of the pile of wood, before pulling my wand out and incanting.

" _Incendio!"_

The dry wood caught fire at once, quickly spreading to the rest as the frigid air warmed up considerably around Jon and I. I shivered slightly at the sudden change in temperature, though it was quite pleasant. As the fire spread, I took the time to smear some Murtlap Essence over the large cut in my palm, the cut healing instantly, leaving nothing— not even a scar— behind.

I watched the crackling fire coalesce around the egg, suffusing into it, and energizing it somehow. The pulse emanating from the egg was now stronger.

It was working! The dragon egg was successfully given fire and blood; but now, it needed life to complete its birth.

I crossed my fingers, hoping that I was right and that I didn't have to sacrifice an actual person, before I released my control over my magic. It suffused into its surroundings, connecting with everything it could lay its influence on— until it touched the egg within the flames. I could see the little dragon within the egg in my mind's eye. It was drawing from my power, using it to build its body, its skeleton, its organs and scales.

The remainder of my energy, which had been flowing outwards in all directions, suddenly focused on the egg, saturating it with my power, my life force. It was like a weight had settled on me, a weight that kept growing and growing. At first, it was painless, akin to the feeling of someone placing their hand on your shoulder. But it grew worse as time went on, and I felt like I was being crushed by all sides with no end in sight.

My perception of the outside world had completely faded by that point, my focus remaining solely on the egg and my own struggle to live.

The agony persisted for what felt like an eternity, before dissipating entirely. I sagged in exhaustion and weariness as the world came back into focus. The fire had gone out, though the egg now glowed a bright blue— the same color as my own power, and that of Jon.

A long moment passed, and then...

 _Crack!_

A fissure appeared on the egg's surface.

"It's hatching!" I heard Jon say in excitement as I watched the egg crack under the relentless assault from the occupant within. The egg wobbled for a few more moments, before a clawed foot crashed through the shell, opening a big hole, which the little one within began to expand with furious swipes and thrusts.

I approached the egg as the baby dragon finally tore a hole big enough for him to crawl out of. He looked exactly like the depictions in the books portraying his race— scaled, reptilian creatures with two legs, two wings and a tail— though he looked infinitely more beautiful than the ones in the books. He was the size of a small cat, and—

 _§It's a she.§_ Balthazar interrupted lightly.

 _"How can you tell?"_ I thought incredulously.

 _§Smell.§_ Balthazar explained.

I smiled and watched the lady dragon attempt to move through her surroundings, using her leathery wings as forelegs, before finally reaching me and looking up into my eyes quizzically, already showing more intelligence than most animals— and she was not even a minute old!

We both scrutinized each other— noting that the baby dragon already had a sharp set of teeth and claws— before _trilling_ at me, reminding me of Fawkes for a moment, and climbing up my body. She paused at my right arm, sniffing and poking the hardened black scales before losing interesting and coming all the way up to my shoulder, showing me a view of her back, with spiny, red tipped crests running over it.

"He's beautiful." Jon whispered in awe. "What are you going to call him?"

"It's a she." I corrected.

"How do you know?" Jon asked curiously, but made an 'O' with his mouth when I tapped my scaled right arm in response.

The dragon trilled again as she affectionately laid her head against mine.

"What are you going to call her?" Jon asked curiously.

I caressed the top of her head, the little one leaning into my soothing touch.

I smiled down in affection, and knew exactly what to call her.

"Hestia." I decided. "I'll call her Hestia."


	23. Raising Dragons and Armies

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2016  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 23: Raising Dragons and Armies**

Gasps and squeals of shock.

I sighed and waited for the inevitable onslaught of questions as I held a small chunk of meat over my right shoulder. Immediately, the offered meat was snatched up and devoured by my newest companion, a baby dragon by the name of Hestia.

Her blue scales gleamed in the early morning light filtering in the Great Hall of Winterfell as Hestia nudged my shoulder, her tail pointing to my lap.

I smiled, and obliged her.

"A dragon!" Arya was the first to say, standing on her chair and leaning forward to get a better look. The Lady Catelyn didn't reprimand her, too shocked to be able to form any words. "Where'd you get it?"

"Found _her_ egg on the way here." I answered easily, feeding Hestia another piece of meat. "Hatched her last night."

Bran seemed to be warring between looking at me with anger, to gazing at the dragon in awe. I met his gaze, and he looked away.

I guessed he still blamed me for not healing his father.

"Can I touch her?" Arya asked excitedly.

"Ah... I don't think that's a good idea." I smiled apologetically before Catelyn could yell out a no. "Maybe if she gets more used to you."

A few moments passed, and then—

"Just who _are_ you?" Robb asked slowly.

Everyone's excitement died down at the loaded question, and I licked suddenly dry lips as they looked on worriedly between the two of us.

This would be the deciding moment in my bold move. Jon and I had argued extensively on what was to be done about the newest addition to my small family. Jon had said that she should be hidden, in case any lingering hatred of anything Targaryen remained.

After all, the Mad King Aerys Targaryen had burned the Lord Rickard Stark and his son Brandon to death, indirectly caused the death of Lyanna Stark as well as countless others in the Seven Kingdoms.

And, Jon had a point, so I'd given him an out, a way to avoid any of the stigma I was possible to carry after revealing this secret. I told him that he could act as shocked as the rest of them were, thereby removing any wrongdoing on his part.

Jon refused instantly, looking visibly upset at the thought of betraying me.

Not going to lie, it was really heartwarming to see that kind of devotion and trust.

I had smiled and told him why it was better to reveal the existence of Hestia as soon as possible. The longer I kept this a secret from everyone— and with magic, I figured I could do that for at least a few months before Hestia grew too big and too powerful for my magic to effectively hide her— the worse the betrayal will feel for them.

This way, I would demonstrate that I trusted them with this secret.

And that was why I walked around most of Winterfell, with Hestia on my shoulder trilling loudly and proudly as the residents took turns gaping and gasping in shock at the sight. There were even a few screams of shock mixed in with fright.

But no one dared to make a move on the little one, my smoldering emerald glare rooting them all on the spot. The fact that Lightning flew out of my body, scorching the earth around me with ease, as well as my black blade exuding an unholy dark light helped as well.

In for a penny, in for a pound, I had grimly thought to myself, then.

I stared Robb down for a few seconds, telling him without words that any attacks on my new companion would be construed as an attack on me. He would not enjoy the aftermath.

"I descend from the ancient and noble Dragonlords of Valyria." It was a lie, but there was no one who could refute my claim. "There's a reason I am capable of magic, and there's a reason I was able to forge my magic sword. No ordinary man could do these things."

Robb's eyes widened at the claim.

"You're a _Targaryen descendant_?" The Lady Catelyn said in dismay.

I turned my gaze to her and shook my head. "The Targaryens were one of the Dragonlord families, but they were _far_ from the most powerful." I paused for a second, before continuing. "No, if my parent's stories were true, then I am a descendant of a man named Aurion. He'd survived The Doom and attempted to retake his lands— I believe he declared himself the Emperor of Valyria."

"What happened to him?" Came the question from Arya.

"He's believed to have died at the Valyrian Peninsula." I said easily. "Took his dragon, and an entire army, and headed to Valyria— or whatever remained of it. They never came back."

"And you're his descendant?" Robb asked, a little doubtful.

"As far as I know, yes." I said with a shrug. "I'd thought it was fanciful thinking on my parent's part, and had dismissed it out of hand, until I hatched this egg and got little Hestia, here."

"That's her name?" Arya asked with a smile, the atmosphere lightening up slightly.

"Yes." I lifted Hestia slightly, who snapped at me at the interruption of her meal. I sternly glared back and hissed. _§None of that, little one_. _§_

She stopped, bowed her head, and returned to her food.

Discovering that Parseltongue allowed me to speak to dragons was also quite convenient.

I turned my gaze back to Robb.

"So, what do you wish to do now?" I asked bluntly. "I know I promised to help you against the Lannisters—" The Starks scowled at the name. "—but if you feel my presence will hinder your efforts, I understand."

And, I did.

"Hinder my efforts?" Robb repeated dumbly. "You healed Bran. You saw that justice was served to those who attacked him. You and Jon saved Sansa and Arya, helped get Father's body back to Winterfell, as well as our family's sword, Ice."

Robb paused to let all of that sink in. I noticed Bran absorbing his words as well, giving me an unreadable look. At least it was better than the veiled resentment he was giving me earlier.

"How exactly have you hindered me?" Robb asked, looking faintly amused. "Because you have a dragon, now? Though what you've shown me _is_ disconcerting, you have done nothing but good to my family, Harry. Only a dishonorable pile of filth would turn you away, after all you've done."

My spirits lifted, and I smiled.

I was about to say something, before Hestia trilled affectionately, climbing onto my shoulder once more, before alternating between staring at Grey Wind and Ghost, who was standing next to Robb and Jon respectively, as if they were the most interesting creatures in the world.

The large direwolves approached me, returning the hatchling's stares with equal interest. I felt her claws grip my indestructible shirt a little tighter, as she huddled closer to me.

"Aww." I smiled and gently pried her off of my shoulder, putting her in protective embrace on my lap. " Look. She's scared of them."

 _§It's okay, Hestia.§_ I hissed at the little one and she looked up at me fearfully. Emerald met emerald. _§I won't let anything hurt you. Not while I'm alive.§_

That seemed to do the trick, as Hestia crawled over to the side of the seat and poked her head out to see the two large direwolves staring at her still. She squeaked carefully.

Nervously.

Grey Wind moved away, seemingly losing interest, while Ghost rolled over to his back, panting and waving his tail happily. Hestia squeaked again, her tail poking the albino wolf's nose.

Ghost sneezed, startling Hestia who quickly crawled up my shoulder.

"Shhh..." I calmed her down as Ghost ran back Jon. "You're fine."

Hestia calmed down once more, though she kept a wary eye on the two direwolves.

"Are you _sure_ I can't come pet her?" Arya requested again.

I smiled again, and shook my head no.

The news of my capabilities and ancestry travelled all over the North like wildfire in the weeks that followed.

Lord after Lord answered Robb's call to arms, proudly displaying their banners as they were welcomed by the Starks.

The Karstark Sunburst. The Manderly Merman. The Glover Fist. The Mormont Bear. The Cerwyn Battle-Axe. The Bolton Flayed-Man. The Hornwood Moose. The Umber Chains. And many others.

All there to answer Robb's call— and also see the rumored Dragonlord with his very own dragon. The famed Harry of the Blackscale, who had defeated both Jaime Lannister and Barristan Selmy, arguably the best swordsmen of Westeros, as well as The Mountain That Rode, a legendary fighter in his own right.

The meetings were short, as feeding and raising a quickly growing dragon turned out to take up the majority of my time.

Hestia, while kind and gentle at times, could also be quite frightening when roused. Right now, the damage she was capable of inflicting was minimal at best. But, when she was fully grown...

Well, I'd seen what a Hungarian Horntail was capable of— and I remembered that dragons here could be at least five times larger than the Horntails, though that would take quite a while.

Quicker than I was expecting, though, as Hestia had already grown in size. About thirty percent larger, if I was being modest; fourty percent, if I was being generous. Hestia's appetite proved more and more voracious as the days passed.

Not wanting her to get fat, I began to devise a series of exercises to keep her active. I had her crawl laps around the courtyard. After that, I would have her attempt to playfight with either Ghost or Grey Wind, sometimes with Summer— whom she had quickly learned to tolerate.

She obviously lost, every time, though Ghost and Grey Wind were gentle in the way they handled things. Summer was a little less gentle, but it was probably for the best, as it would toughen Hestia up quickly.

I would not allow Shaggydog to interact with little Hestia, though, as he was too rough and wild for my tastes. It was no surprise; Rickon was too young, prone to childish tantrums as all children are. His direwolf picked up on it, being just as irritable.

So I didn't let him come close.

"By the old gods, I never thought I'd see a dragon with my own eyes!" The Greatjon boomed as he watched the growing Hestia crawl alongside me as I headed to the Great Hall, where Robb was holding a meeting.

The Greatjon, or Jon Umber, was the Lord of the Last Hearth, head of his house. He was a large man, easily over six feet tall, heavily muscled— he needed them to carry that monstrous sword over his shoulder. Jeez, and I thought Ice was over the top.

"And now you have." I motioned for Hestia to crawl up my shoulder. She obeyed instantly, rubbing her head against mine affectionately. "You are the Lord Jon Umber?"

He gave a nod. "And you're the famous Blackscale."

I didn't respond immediately. "Yes."

"Heard you defeated the Kingslayer and Barristan Selmy in single combat." He gave me a piercing look.

"Yes." I repeated, though I didn't elaborate on the subject. "You are heading to the Great Hall, as well?"

"Aye." The Greatjon replied as we passed through the courtyard and made our way past the sept. "Lord Robb is assembling a war coucil."

The Great Hall was as large as ever, though its table layout seemed to have changed slightly to accomodate the war council. Three Long tables were arranged in a broken triangle, with each Lord taking his seat with no order of importance.

Jon was standing by the side. Robb had invited him personally, though he did not assume his seat next to Robb— likely the doing of Catelyn. I guessed even saving her daughters' lives still wasn't enough.

He stood by the side, his face stoic, revealing nothing to the world.

"Ah, you're here." Robb took notice of our presence, and the remainder turned to look at us. Most of them focused on the Greatjon for a few moments, before onto me, and then Hestia.

They stared in fascination some more, before Robb cleared his throat and motioned for us to take our seats. We both complied, though I took a moment to turn to Jon.

"Come, Jon." I said, motioning to the empty spot next to me. "You can sit here."

A few silent moments passed, before Jon nodded tightly and assumed his seat.

Lady Catelyn's face looked scandalized for a few short moments as Jon, Ice slung over his shoulder proudly for all to see, assumed his seat next to mine. The remainder of the Lords looked on disapprovingly, but were interrupted by Robb, who began speaking.

"My Lord Father is dead." He said bluntly. "Killed by assassins hired by the Lannisters."

There was a flurry of motion and almost overwhelming sound at the news, each Lord yelling in shock, dismay, and disbelief, until Grey Wind barked loudly, the sound impacting everyone with the force of a man's light shove.

"The King, Robert Baratheon, has also been slain." Robb added. "It was orchestrated by none other than the former Queen, Cersei Baratheon of Houses Lannister and Baratheon— though the latter is debatable, in light of new information— the same woman who had my younger brother, Brandon, pushed off a tower to hide her infidelity."

Her infidelity was a moot point, as Robert tended to fuck anything with a pulse, but a person was judged by their own sins, not the sins of others. Just because Robert was not loyal did absolve her of her own sin— she was also disloyal and evil enough to consider killing a child to keep her secrets just that; secret.

Robb paused for a few moments, letting the news sink in.

"Why?" Came the question from one of the men. He looked wholly unexceptional.

Robb turned to him, and answered.

"Because Cersei _Lannister_ had nothing to lose, and everything to gain, Lord Glover." Robb said slowly, before addressing everyone. "During your journeys to Winterfell, my Lords, we have received a few ravens from King's Landing, as well as other locations, and the contents are... Well..."

He paused for a few moments, eyes unfocussing slightly as he attempted to recall the contents.

"The missive from King's Landing stated that Cersei's son, Joffrey, has been installed as the King." Robb said gravely. "Joffrey, who had been stripped of his Heirship by his father for demonstrating a tendency to abuse his power as prince. On the late King's bed, a letter had been found with his seal, declaring that Cersei and Joffrey were to be pardoned, and Joffrey was to be reinstated as the Heir to the Seven Kingdoms. It is now being loudly proclaimed as truth that my late father was a traitor to the realm who had killed his King in an attempt to usurp the throne and mold the King's son, Tommen, in his image."

Now, _that_ got a response.

"Ned Stark, a _traitor?_ " The Greatjon boomed over the rest of them, his voice easily drowning theirs out, hitting the table and leaning forward aggressively. "The North will become a great, bleeding _desert_ before that day comes."

A chorus of "Aye"-s were heard, echoing in the large hall.

"Another set of letters came in, from Highgarden, as well as Storm's End." Robb continued unabashed. "Apparently, Lord Renly Baratheon has laid a claim on the Crown, stating that the children of Cersei are not of Baratheon descent. He claims that they are bastards. He's already allied himself with the Tyrells of the Reach, and intends to crown himself as King."

Again, the room broke out in an uproar, though much more subdued than before, the various Lords having realized that this wasn't just Robb trying to play at revenge. The Kingdoms were fracturing themselves.

"Surely, not Stannis? He is the elder." Catelyn asked, and a few among the gathered people nodded in agreement.

"Aye, I agree." Robb said. "By the laws of succession, and, if Renly's claims are true, then Stannis Baratheon is to become the King of Westeros. But, there's more."

A few grumbled " _what now_?" as Robb pulled out the final missive.

"It came in this morning." Robb said, eying the message for a few seconds. "From Lord Stannis Baratheon of Dragonstone. Like his brother, Lord Renly, Lord Stannis claims that Cersei Lannister's children are not of his family— but that they're the product of incest, between Cersei, and the Kingslayer, Ser Jaime Lannister."

" _What?_ "

Robb only nodded in response.

My eyes widened, remembering an old conversation with Balthazar on the subject. He had made the suggestion that Jaime was having sexual relations with Cersei, and that's why he looked so conflicted.

"Incest!?"

"Lord Stannis Baratheon has also staked a claim on the Iron Throne, proclaiming himself to be the King, as well." Robb added, looking at each and every Lord and Lady present.

"Three Kings, then?" A soft voice spoke, its source an average sized man with a plain face, beardless and ordinary, and pale eyes. His skin was equally pale, and pasty. I almost mistook him for a vampire, with that appearance. "Renly Baratheon with the might of the Reach and the Stormlands. Stannis Baratheon with his large fleet of ships and the vassals of Dragonstone. And Joffrey Baratheon with the backing of the Westerlands. All three claiming to be the King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Aye, Lord Bolton." Robb said. "That is correct."

"So, it's obvious what must be done." I pitched in, nudging and poking at Hestia, who tried to fight against it, but failed, resigning herself to being poked with as much dignity as she could. "The Lannisters are the enemy. That leaves Renly Baratheon, or Stannis Baratheon, as possible allies. But, who to pick? By laws of succession, Stannis should be the King. But, then again, by laws of succession, the Mad King's children should have been the Heirs to the throne. Renly has the backing of two kingdoms, one of which sells grains and livestock to the other realms."

There were some murmurs at that.

"Lord Ned was dear to me." I said honestly, ignoring the strange looks I got at the way of addressing their previous Lord Paramount. "He was a wise, and good ruler. He always listened to people, before making his judgements— and his judgements were always fair, and honorable. And they killed him. Lord Ned tasked me with getting his children back home safely, and I did. He wanted the world to know the truth, that it was not him that killed the King, but Cersei Lannister, with the help of her own family's gold and resources."

"That leaves us no closer to knowing who to ally ourselves with." An old man with a massive belly and fingers the size of sausages said, though his eyes were calculating and shrewd.

"I was getting to that." I said and gently pried Hestia off of my shoulder, placing her on my lap, instead, noting that they all stared at the creature, still fascinated by Hestia's very existence. "Lady Catelyn's family control both of the Riverlands, as well as the Vale. That makes three allied kingdoms, who can also ally with the Stormlands, and the Reach against the Westerlands."

Catelyn shook her head. "My sister, the Lady Lysa, has not sent a single letter from the Eyrie. Moreover, my uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, has confided in me that Lysa refuses to leave the Eyrie, and has closed the Vale's borders to any outside influence. I believe she does not wish to participate in the war to come, despite the death of Lord Jon Arryn, another suspicious death linked to the former Queen Cersei."

Murmurs rose once more at that declaration.

"Isolating her kingdom?" I mused aloud. "That still leaves the Riverlands."

Here, Robb smiled. "Lord Hoster Tully has agreed to join forces with us. Likely, he understands that a war between the Westerlands, Stormlands, Reach, and the North will lead to the decimation of the Riverlands; he wishes to prevent it."

A cheer broke out at that declaration, and more plans were made to meet up with the nobles from the Riverlands and join forces.

"But, that still leaves us in the same predicament as before." I noted grimly. "The way I see it, there are three choices: the first choice is to follow the laws of succession and join our forces with those of Stannis Baratheon, who has little in the way of fighting men; the second choice is to discard the laws of succession and join with Renly Baratheon, focusing your forces to destroy the Westerlands and claim their riches for your own."

"And the third?" Robb asked calmly, not swayed by the prospect of riches, though some of the others perked up.

At least he was willing to listen to advice.

"Arguably the most dangerous option." I said, and looked at every single person in the room. "Make allegiances to no one. Rule over yourselves like the Winter Kings of the past."

A deafening silence ensued.

"The most dangerous option, indeed." Lord Bolton agreed with a tiny nod of the head in my direction. "The possibility of both Lords Renly and Stannis declaring the North as enemies is there, which would mean our allies in the Riverlands would be attacked from all sides, thus negating their potential usefulness."

I felt a bit of admiration creep into me. Despite his vampire-like looks, this was a man with a brain, and he knew how to use it.

They all turned to Robb, who had his eyes closed in deep contemplation.

He opened his eyes.

"Lannisters took my father." Robb said in a deceptive calmness, though his eyes were furious. "I will not allow any of their brood to sit on the Iron Throne— I mean to see them dead. My father's death _will_ be avenged!"

That drew a cheer.

"And, the Baratheon Kings?" Roose Bolton asked softly.

"Here's what I think of these two _Kings_!" The Greatjon boomed, before spitting to the side, garnering a laugh from those attending the war council.

Lord Bolton frowned, but said nothing in return.

"I will not alienate the Baratheon brothers, just yet." Robb decided after a few moments of deliberation. "We will claim neutrality on their end, at least until we have taken our revenge on the Lannisters and their Westerlands. We will finally get to see if it's true that Tywin Lannister can shit gold."

That got another booming laugh from the Greatjon.

"You're a Stark, all right!" The large man said boisterously. "No give in you, whatsoever!"

The meeting continued for a few hours longer, going over the various details involving war preparations. Whoever told you that war was simply about gathering and army and leading it to a fight was an idiot.

The logistics of it was a nightmare, which was why Maester Luwin— as well some other Maesters who had accompanied the invited Lords— had joined us, helping everyone figure out what the expenses would be in terms of food, equipment, mounts, and supplies. Which roads needed to be maintained, where to raise more levies and where to find more men.

That was when Theon burst in the Great Hall, dragging something behind him.

"Theon?!" Robb said as a few Lords shouted "What's the meaning of this!?"

"Look who I found wandering towards Winterfell." Theon moved sideways to show us what he was dragging.

It was a familiar looking dwarf, though unconscious. If he was, he would shit his pants at the death glare Robb had immediately given him.

"The famed Tyrion Lannister." Robb smiled dangerously, getting up and approaching the dwarf in question. "Just fell into our lap? How... Convenient."

I winced, soothing Hestia's agitation by caressing her spine delicately.

Tyrion was probably going to have a very bad day when he woke up.


	24. Campaign Start

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2016  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 24: Campaign Start**

I smiled down at Hestia during our daily work-out, which consisted of her crawling laps around my training spot, as well as jumping at the end of every lap, in order to strengthen her hind legs.

While she was in mid-jump, she was to unfurl her wings and glide back down to earth, before running once more.

In short, this work-out ensured that she increased in strength in all areas, except her tail— I just had her move relatively heavy rocks with it, for now.

We took a short break to regain our energy, by which time Jon would join us, Ghost along for the ride. Thus began the second phase of our training.

Sparring, or play-fighting in Hestia's case.

I watched Hestia attempt to pounce on Ghost, who would shove her aside, or bat her with his large paws as she got close, while also forcing her to defend against his own lunges and bites.

It had been two weeks since Lord Tyrion Lannister had been brought to Winterfell— he was strangely cooperative after I'd let him pet my dragon— and Hestia was growing in leaps and bounds.

She was almost as big as a medium sized dog, at this point, and was capable of dishing out as much as she could take. I figured she would be ready to attempt flight or breathe fire any day now.

While Hestia did her mock battles against Ghost, I would spar against Jon. He had quickly gotten used to wielding Ice, swinging it as easily as he had done his previous weapon of choice.

But, wielding a great sword was different than wielding a long sword. The weight was not an issue, what with Jon's increased strength, and the lightness of the Valyrian steel that Ice was made of.

Though, it was always important to note the sizes of the weapons. A long sword's blade was known to be around thirty to forty inches, whereas a great sword's blade was at least sixty inches— and that was being quite conservative— as well as being wider than the blade of a long sword.

So, while Jon could still wield it passably— in the beginning— his lack of skill showed when it came to high speed swordplay and he couldn't compensate for the added reach the blade afforded him. But, after nonstop training for weeks on end, I felt that he had gotten it down pat.

After our spar, Jon and I would sit together, and theorize on the limitations of our respective magical powers, and the prospect of transfering some magic into Ghost. What ended up happening was Jon slumping forward unconscious, transfering his consciousness into his direwolf.

He warg-ed into Ghost.

It took a while, but with a bit of a concentration and a lot of calming down, Jon managed to return into his own body. The experience left him shaken and amazed— this wasn't a power I'd given him, but one he'd been born with.

I briefly wondered if it was his Stark bloodline, or his bond with Ghost, that let him enter his companion's mind. If it was centered around bloodlines, then he just might also be able to warg into Hestia.

Not that I wanted him to try it anytime soon; instead, the focus shifted on attempting to have Jon separate the fire from his magic so he could attempt to inject it into Ghost. The process was slow going, and quite frustrating, but I imagined Jon would eventually learn the skill.

I had given the idea of transfering some of my own powers to other people some thought, but Erebus had knocked it out of the window: apparently, only a select few were capable of withstanding my power without it completely damaging their system.

Only those with great magical power could have withstood my own filtering into their systems. This meant that, if Bran was not powerful magically, my attempt to heal his nervous system would have resulted in him being further crippled, or outright killed.

It was a sobering thought.

Speaking of the young boy, he had warmed up to me once more over the weeks. Likely, he realized that holding a grudge against me was pointless, as I had done my best to keep his family safe.

When he finally came to me with concerns of being able to see the future, I had linked my energy with him and felt amazed at the changes within him. Most of his power focused around his eyes and ears, enhancing his senses to such levels that he could predict any person's moves a full second before they made them. That was even beyond my own power.

I even had it tested by having him watch a few spars in the Winterfell courtyard. I asked him to predict one of the combatants' every move, whether it was offensive or defensive.

He had not missed a single move.

He decided to call it his Future Sight.

So Jon and I would help train him, sometimes, when Ser Rodrik was too busy to do it, himself. Mostly, Jon just sparred with him as I watched, pointing out what he was doing wrong and what was wrong with his tactics and stances.

Just because you could predict your enemy's movements didn't mean you were in shape physically to actually counter them. That part would require a lot of training and drilling to sear the stances and moves into his memory— his muscle memory, to be precise.

But, yes.

I could not transfer my powers onto everyone.

So, I did something else entirely.

With the help of Robb and the other Lords stationed at Winterfell, I began enchanting as many weapons and armors as they could bring to me. It was dull and tiring, but would probably give the North the edge it needed to survive the coming wards.

They had seemed leery of my magic, at first.

And then they'd seen an untouched blade shatter after being hit by an enchanted one. Their looks of unadulterated glee said it all, especially after I told them that their armors would also possess similar properties.

Robb had confided in me, that night.

"Your recent... Changes to our weapons and armor will likely serve us infinitely more than anything else." Robb had clapped me on the shoulder.

"Keep in mind, Robb." I stomped on his parade. "The armor will not bend or break by anything other than magically enhanced weapons— such as Valyrian Steel— but that still does not mean that the men wearing them are invincible."

"Too true." Robb agreed. "A spear to the face or through the neck would ignore the armor altogether. But, do not make light of what you've given us. It gives our men a distinct advantage, not just in offensive and defensive measures, but it also gives them peace of mind. They need not fear that a warhammer will cave in their breastplate, crushing their chests— that is just one example."

"I'm not making light of it." I smiled. "I'm just making sure you realize what the limitations of my magic are. If I could make myself share the same quality as that of steel, then I might not have almost died at King's Landing."

"Still." Robb insisted. "You've likely solved our third biggest problem— the first and second being managing our food stores while on the march, and the funding required to keep campaigning."

"About that..." I grinned and told him I could enlarge their food stores by at least ten times, as well as make it last for years without any chance of rotting, which, when combined with the fact that all of their equipment was unbreakable, would reduce the cost of the war immensely.

That's not forgetting the fact I was loaded with gold— though there was no need of it, right now, considering the cost reduction in food and equipment would leave Robb with a lot more funding.

Robb had only shaken his head in resigned amazemement and let me do my thing.

"If we make it through this war." Robb had promised resolutely the night before the march, as we all feasted, knowing that the days to come would be filled with endless marching, battles and blood. "I will give you anything you want. A Lordship, land, whatever it is you wish."

A Lordship.

That would likely make life a whole lot easier, when it came to dealing with strangers or foreign entities. While I could easily take care of myself in most situations, I would likely have an easier time of things with a Lordship under my belt.

It gave a person credibility.

Now if only the concept didn't make me feel like Voldemort.

Jon, drunk off his ass beside me, nodded and smiled, correcting Robb none-too-gently. " _When_ we _win_ this war, you mean."

"Aye, that's the spirit, lad!" The Greatjon boomed, having overheard our conversation— or, at least part of it— before downing an entire mug of ale in a single gulp and slamming it against his table. "The Lannisters shall feel our cold, hard shafts, begging your pardon my Lady." He added the last part at Catelyn's disapproving glare.

"I'm not too worried about rewards." I said easily, frowning as I rubbed at my left palm, distracted by the phantom pains. "I'd be happy sticking my sword through Baelish's gut, for now."

A chorus of agreement, though the Lady Catelyn still looked a little upset about her former friend.

The next day, our march began. There were tearful goodbyes all around. Arya tried to sneak into the army, only to be apprehended by her mother and sent back home with instructions on how she would be punished.

As expected, the trip was slow-going and dull, but the pace was thankfully much faster than that of the march we'd taken on our way to King's Landing.

I figured, in a single day, we had covered about twenty miles. Checking my map, and making the necessary calculations, I figured we'd arrive at Moat Cailin in a few weeks time.

More men seemed to join our march, with every day that passed. Thousands of levies from the many villages in the North, and hundreds of men-at-arms charged with training them, as well as dozens of knights.

Morale was high— the prospect of never ending supplies and unbreakable equipment seemed to help alot. The sight of Robb, Jon and I with our respective companions struck a powerful image.

Robb Stark, the Lord Paramount of the North, with Grey Wind by his side; the Young Wolf. Jon Snow, a great warrior as the remainder of the Northern Lords had seen over the weeks, flanked by Ghost; the White Wolf they called him.

And then, there was me.

The man who had enchanted the Northerners' weapons and armor— it was eerie, how people quickly accepted magic when it would make their war so much simpler; better than the fear I was expecting.

The only ones among the army that seemed leery of my presence were the Manderlys, and they were the ones who kept to the new gods— the Seven Who Are One.

Though, they didn't say anything on the matter to my face. Behind my back, I knew there was some uneasy muttering, but nothing overly concerning.

So, if I maintained a "stay away from me and I'll stay away from you" relationship, those that followed the Seven wouldn't make any move against me. Neutrality was better than outright hostility, after all.

The men who kept to the Old Gods were surprisingly accepting of it— as the legends behind their religion revolved around the Children of the Forest, the Others, Giants, and the like. All magical creatures capable of much power.

Did I get a nice nickname like Robb and Jon? I got a few.

The Mage Lord.

Black Dragonscale.

Dragonlord.

And others.

As for the Maesters marching alongside us, they would approach me as I trained Hestia, asking all sorts of questions about dragons, magic, and Old Valyria— of which I knew very little. It made for some really interesting conversations, which livened up this dull march.

One of the many topics of conversation was the bleeding star that had appeared above us the day before I had hatched Hestia.

What was it? The debates held on the matter were pretty heated.

I wanted to tell them that it was probably a comet passing the Earth by, and that the red stuff behind it was most likely ice tinted in red being evaporated by the sun as it approached the solar system, but I imagined that wouldn't go over well.

The men would whisper that it is a sign that they would win, that the gods, old and new, would favor them in battle. I rolled my eyes at their gullibility, but said nothing on the matter. Hey, if they believed they were divinely advantaged, who was I to stop them?

And so, it went.

Wake up. Eat, drink, shit. Clean up camp. Feed Geryon and Hestia. March for six to eight hours, depending on weather conditions. Rest for a while. Attempt to get the quickly growing Hestia to belch out flames. Fail miserably. Look upset. Eat, drink, shit. Go to sleep.

Rinse, repeat. At least Hestia was now able to hover in place for a few seconds before she tired out.

Eventually, we reached Moat Cailin, the army's spirit and morale lowered none; awed by my feats of magic— enlarging the barrels of wine seemed to be biggest thing they liked. Figures.

Archers from both Deepwood Motte and Torrhen's Square, one of which I recognized as the boy, Torwynd, from that inn I stayed in while I was there, were ordered by Robb to man the stronghold.

"A few hundred archers can hold the whole of the Neck against an invading army." Robb said, poring over his maps in a room he'd commandeered in one of the still standing towers. Moat Cailin itself had fallen into disuse and disrepair since there had never been a true need to use it in that past— with the exception of Robert's Rebellion, and now. "The swamplands and bog would be impossible to cross with an army, and the crannogmen under Lord Howland Reed will ensure that any lucky survivors of the swamps meet a quick end."

A few of the other Northern Lords were also present, as well as Theon, Jon and I.

"Our scouts have indicated that the forces from the Westerlands have begun their assault." Roose Bolton spoke softly, pointing at a few points on the map. "Already, the villages around the Mummer's Ford have been sacked, their smallfolk butchered, the women taken; they sought refuge in their timber holdfast, but the Lannister men set fire to it."

A few looks of uneasy horror flitted onto the occupant's faces; likely they'd prefer to be killed by a sword than to be burned to death. I agreed.

"Events of a similar nature transpired over the Stone Mill, and Sherrer." Bolton added, tracing his fingers along the map. "The House Piper at Pinkmaiden was also quickly overwhelmed, and the men were forced to retreat north east to Riverrun."

"Their goal is Riverrun?" Lord Karstark said, studying the map as well.

"Perhaps." Robb allowed. "Our count of the Lannister men is around thirty thousand. I doubt that they would simply all be deployed to Riverrun." He pointed at Harrenhal and Darry. "No doubt, Lord Lannister has split his army into two, one portion to besiege Riverrun, and the other to take Castle Harrenhal— as his grandson rules from King's Landing and must be defended. Though, there could also be some stationed at Darry."

"Harrenhal." The Greatjon agreed without hesitation. "Darry is too small and open from all sides. A lake from its south, and natural defenses so effective that an army would grow old and gray before even nicking Harrenhal's damned walls. Likely the gold shitter has already taken it." He gave me a sidelong glance. "Would take dragons to bring it down."

I shook my head. "I doubt Hestia could light firewood, let alone an entire castle, right now. But I can easily have the gates open, and the defenses sabotaged."

"Then I leave that task to you, Harry." Robb nodded at me. "Though, we must focus on aiding Lord Tully and whichever of his vassals survived the initial Lannister invasion at Riverrun, before considering an attack on Harrenhal."

The Lords gathered nodded in approval.

"Once the archers left at Moat Cailin are settled in, we march for the Twins and join their power to ours." Robb nodded to himself.

Catelyn grimaced.

"I would not be so sure, my Lord." Catelyn said, shaking her head. "Lord Walder has gained a new title for himself at the end of Robert's Rebelion."

"The Late Lord Frey." One of them said, and a short laugh was had.

"I have learned to expect nothing of Walder Frey. He will likely keep his men in reserve, before finally joining with the winning side to curry favor." Catelyn said with conviction. "Either that, or simply do nothing."

"Truly?" Robb seemed shocked at such a move. "He's your father banner man."

"Some men take their oaths more seriously than others, my Lord." Catelyn sighed. "And Lord Walder was always friendlier with Casterly Rock than my father would have liked. One of his sons is wed to Tywin Lannister's sister, though that means little of itself to be sure, as Lord Walder has sired a great many children over his years, each set to marry someone of high standing. Still..."

"Do you think he intends to betray us to the Lannisters, my Lady?" Lord Glover asked gravely.

"I do not know." She answered after a moment. "Lord Walder has always had an old man's caution and a young man's ambition."

"Regardless." Robb shook his head. "There is no other way across the river, beside the Twins, Mother."

"Why not just take it?" Jon cut in curiously.

"Easier said than done." Lady Mormont, a short, stout, grey haired woman, cut in, hefting her spiked mace for a few seconds. "The Twins consist of two identical stone castles standing on each side of the Green Fork, with high curtain walls, deep moats, and a barbican and portcullis in each. To take them, you would have to coordinate an assault from both sides, as the defenders of one castle can quickly rush to the other. And, since we're only on one side..."

A pause.

"No chance in breaching through the gates." Jon sighed.

"Except, why breach through the gates when I can just open them with my magic?" I cut in, gaining everyone's attention.

"That could work." Robb nodded. "Though, there is still the fact that the Lord Frey's men shall still fight us the entire way."

"It would be a slaughter for both sides." Lord Bolton agreed with a strange gleam in his eyes. "Battles within the walls of castles are quick, cramped and nothing short of brutal. We would likely lose as many men as those in the Twins, even with the... Enhanced armor we have been gifted."

The gathered Lords began to murmur uneasily, considering the idea or its alternatives.

"I am not prepared to make that sort of sacrifice." Robb said, shaking his head. "I will attempt to reason with the Lord Frey to gain his allegiance— would have done so from the beginning. But if I am refused entry or if the toll he exacts is too high, I shall consider your idea, Harry."

I shook my head.

"Fighting within the walls is indeed suicide." I agreed with a nod to Bolton, who graciously returned the gesture. "But, I suppose I should have elaborated; you don't need to fight from within the Twins. I can easily drive them out of the castles, and then you can finish them off on the open field."

"Oh?" Robb and the rest of them leaned forward, gesturing for me to share my plan with them.

So, I did.

We kept on marching along the Kingsroad for a few weeks more, before branching off and heading southwest to the Twins. A few days later, I finally laid eyes on the two castles on each side of the Green Fork.

I had considered the idea of constructing a bridge purely with magic, but I realized that would likely take at least a week with me using the strongest magics I had available to me. The narrowest part of the Green Fork was still ridiculously huge. This wasn't a simple stream.

The Twins looked exactly as the Lady Maege had described them. Identical in every way, earning their name.

We were met by a knight, Ser Stevron Frey, the Heir to the Crossing, as well as three of his brothers. He looked like a weasel, if I were to be brutally honest. They all did.

Way to fit the stereotype, mates.

"My Lord father has sent me to greet you, and inquire as to who leads this mighty host." Stevron said, and I wondered with a headache why I couldn't have been sent to a dimension in which people didn't speak like they were in a medieval live action role play.

"I do." Robb stepped forward on his horse, Grey Wind by his side. It scared the other horses, though a flicker of amusement passed by Ser Stevron's face when he laid eyes on Robb. He was smart enough not to comment on the matter.

"My Lord Father would be host honored if you would share meat and mead with him in the castle and explain your purpose here." Stevron said, and all were quiet for a second before erupting in protest.

Some attempted to change the venue, some tried to talk Robb out of it, before Catelyn finally decided she'd go in Robb's stead.

Ser Stevron nodded, nudging at one of his brothers to move forward. "I am certain my Lord father would be pleased to speak to the Lady Catelyn. To vouchsafe for our good intentions, my brother, Ser Perwyn, will remain here until she is safely returned to you."

"He shall be our honored guest." Robb said as our new not-hostage dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to one of his brothers. "I require my Lady mother's return by even fall, Ser Stevron. It is not my intent to linger here long."

Stevron gave a polite nod, and then turned his horse, his brothers doing the same. "As you say, my Lord."

Lady Catelyn followed, leaving us behind.

"Don't worry." Theon said. "She'll come back in no time."

"She'd better." Robb promised dangerously, eyes smoldering as he stared at the Twins. He gave me a glance, conveying without words what he'd like me to do if his mother didn't come back. I nodded in agreement, and we spoke for another hour, before I headed to the back of the convoy, where Hestia was busy roughhousing with Ghost.

" _Is this really the growth rate of dragons in Westeros?_ " I thought as Hestia tied her tail to Ghost's leg, dragging him as she began to crawl around, the direwolf in question struggling every step of the way, before he yanked hard, setting his foot free and dashing away. Hestia trilled and followed. " _She's already as large as a small pony, and strong enough to force Ghost to use a great bit of his strength."_

 _§No way to tell.§_ Balthazar hissed to my mind. _§Since the last dragon died over a century ago, and their growth rate was never documented in the few books we have on them.§_

"A month ago she was barely the size of a kitten." Jon said as he approached us and made to pet her head. He was the only one whom she'd taken a liking to— must have been his Targaryen heritage, or the fact that he'd been present for Hestia's hatching. "Now, she's easily contending against Ghost."

"Balerion the Blackdread was said to be so large that he could swallow aurochs whole." A familiar voice said from the side.

"Quiet!" A guard said before smacking the cage with the broad side of his sword.

"Let him be." I said, and the guard gave me a fearful look. I frowned; did he think I was going to curse him, or something. "He's done nothing wrong."

I approached the cage.

"The great Blackscale, himself. I'm honored." Lord Tyrion Lannister gestured grandly from his small cage, though there was nothing grand about it. He looked like a mess, though he seemed to retain his good humor despite everything. "And the White Wolf, as well? Truly a great day for one as lowly as I."

I rolled my eyes at the pun. "Hello, Tyrion. I trust they're giving you enough to eat and drink?"

"Perhaps enough to eat, but to drink... Not a single ounce of wine. The craven scum." Tyrion grumbled at the end.

"Hm." I said, digging into my pocket and pulling out my shrunken pitcher of wine, before Engorging it with a wave of my wand. I watched his eyes light up, both at the wine and my casual display of magic. "Come."

Another wave, and his cage was open. A few more, and there were chairs and a table. The guards looked like they were mixed between arguing and staring open mouthed at me.

I stifled an eye roll and turned my head to the side.

"Jon, you want some?" I asked as the man in question joined the 'battle' between Hestia and Ghost.

"Pass!" He yelled as the dragon and direwolf joined forces to bring him down. "Oof!"

"Bottoms up." Tyrion quickly took his seat and began to drink, losing what seemed to be years off of his face the moment the wine entered his body. His withdrawal must have been intense. "I haven't had wine since... I can't quite remember, any longer."

"Yeah." I said noncommittally as I drank some as well. Sometimes I wished I had some Pepsi, but there was nothing to be done on the matter. I doubted the necessary ingredients even existed in Westeros. "So, how was the Wall? I never got to ask, because, you know, you were taken prisoner."

"It was quite the sight." Tyrion said conversationally, easily transitioning between being a prisoner to sitting at my magically conjured table and drinking my wine— however ridiculous it was. "Majestic, even. It was difficult to believe that this was a man made wonder. Some would say the same about the Titan of Braavos, but the Wall is much larger in both height, and length, spamming across three hundred miles along the North. The view from the top was even more awe inspiring. I then pissed over it."

I smirked. Of course, he would have.

"What else did you do, while you were there?" I asked curiously, pouring him another cup of wine.

"Not all that much." Tyrion admitted. "Though the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, a man by the name of Jeor Mormont, asked for me to ask my dear family, as well as the King Robert— this was before he was killed, you see— for more recruits."

"Why?" I asked.

"White Walkers or some such." Tyrion said, though his eyes found their way to Hestia, who was currently being double teamed by Jon and Ghost. "But, then again, if dragons exist, then it is possible all of the other mythical creatures do."

"They exist." I promised to his surprise. "As you know I possess many... gifts."

"Indeed." He quipped, but gestured for me to continue.

"One of them is the ability to... connect, if you will, with this world." I said slowly. "I can feel the flow of its energies."

I paused to let him absorb that comment. This was the real reason I was making conversation with him, the reason why I didn't let him be mistreated in any way. I needed the Westerlands, and he was the key to it all.

That, and he was a pretty smart guy. Very likable.

"I felt their power, north of the Wall." I said gravely. "Undoubtedly, it was the most frightening presence I had ever felt."

"Frightening?" Tyrion gave me a double take.

I nodded. "I don't use that word lightly. I've come accross many things on my journeys, but the power gathering up there is enough to have me greatly worried. They are creatures borne of ice and death, and they will stop at nothing to kill each and every single one of us. Lannister, Stark, Tyrell, Baratheon, Martell, it doesn't matter. We're all meat for their army."

"But, this war—" Tyrion countered, but I interrupted him.

"This war." I said, anger in my tone as the body of Eddard Stark flashed in my mind. "Is the result of your sister's vengeful intentions after she had lost her hand due to her own crimes. Likely, the Lord Lannister has been forced to launch an attack, knowing that the other Houses would take action. It's what anyone would have done to keep their own kingdom safe. But it doesn't matter. They will be defeated before long. Lannister, Baratheon, Tyrell, all of these greedy families will be left in the dust."

"I very much doubt that." Tyrion argued back. "Granted, you do have a dragon, which is a powerful weapon to be sure, but men have killed dragons before."

"Who said I need a dragon?" I smiled. "I am more than capable of doing it, myself."

"My Lord!" A messenger. "Lord Robb summons you to his tent. It is urgent."

I nodded with a frown. "I'm not a Lord, but I'll head there, thank you."

"Lord in all but name." Tyrion said, taking a long gulp of his wine. "The Mage Lord. Dragonlord, they call you."

"It doesn't really matter." I waved it off, uncaring. "Lord or not, I know who I am, and where I stand on the food chain. I don't need the self gratification a title would get me."

Tyrion scrutinized me for a few moments, before getting off his seat and heading back to his cage. "I thank you for the drink, Harry."

I stopped the guard from closing the cage back up.

"Come on, Tyrion." I smiled. "I didn't set you free so you could go back in the cage."

"My Lord?" The guard said, confused at the turn of events. "He is our enemy. I—"

"Indeed he is, my good man." I cut the guard off and extended my hand to the confused dwarf. "But, he doesn't have to be. I'd prefer to have him as an ally."

Tyrion gave me a long, considering look, before taking it and shaking firmly.

I smiled, and turned to where Jon was.

"Hey, Jon!" I yelled. "Get your white wolf ass over here! Your brother's calling for us, and it doesn't sound good."

Jon complied and the three of us began to move towards the main tent. I could sense that Tyrion felt pretty nervous at all the glares sent his way— he hid it pretty well, though.

"Five dragons say Lord Frey wants Robb to marry one of Walder's daughters." Jon said.

"You think I'm stupid?" I scoffed. "I'm not taking that bet."

"You've run out of wine, oh great Mage Lord." Tyrion held up the almost empty pitcher as we almost reached the main tent. "Can you magic up some more?"

Why did I even release him again?

Oh, right, right. Casterly Rock.


	25. Freyfall

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2016  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 25: Freyfall**

"What's _he_ doing here?" Robb said the moment Jon, Tyrion and I entered the main tent.

Robb was leaning over the main table, staring at us expectantly. He was flanked by the Greatjon, as well as one of the Maesters— I didn't remember his name. The Lady Catelyn was also present.

Hm.

I was under the impression that this was urgent.

"Tyrion's my ally, now. He's going to help us in the war against his family." I said simply, getting some strange looks at the response.

"I never said anything of the sort!" Tyrion protested.

"Details." I waved him off, before turning to Robb. "What's the matter?"

Robb gave Tyrion another uncertain look, before sighing tiredly.

"The Lord Frey will let us cross his bridge." Robb said uneasily.

"I'm sensing a 'but' coming." I pointed out dryly.

Robb nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose as if the mere thought of it pained him. "Apparently, in order to acquire Lord Walder's aid, I must take in two of his children as wards at Winterfell."

"That doesn't sound too ba—"

"I must also promise Arya's hand in marriage to a member of his family." I winced at that, but Robb kept going. "As well as myself."

Jon was right, if only about Robb's bit of needing to get married; it was a good thing I didn't take that bet. Not that I couldn't afford to pay, of course, but who liked losing at anything?

Tyrion made a move towards the wine, pouring himself a cup as the guards stationed around us placed their hands on their swords threateningly.

"Stand down." Robb said sternly, and they complied.

"Lord Frey's tolls were always exorbitant, my Lord Stark." Tyrion commented as he took a sip of his wine. "That's how his House got to be one of the richest in the Riverlands, after all."

"Aye, the Imp's right." Lord Umber agreed. "But if we take the long way through the Kingsroad, Riverrun will have gone to shit— begging your pardon my Lady— by the time we get there."

"So, there is no choice." Robb said.

"The hell there isn't!" Jon and I interrupted at the same time.

We shared a look, before Jon let me talk.

"He wants you to marry someone, have Arya marry someone, and then babysit two of his kids for years just so you can cross the bridge? What garantee do you have that he'll even do as you say?" I asked pointedly.

"He's given his word." Robb said with a shake of his head.

"His word means nothing." I retorted easily, waving it off. "If it did, he wouldn't have made this deal with you, in the first place. He would be rushing to save his liege lord, as is his duty."

"Aye." Robb agreed, sagging. He looked at me. "But it's either this, or..."

He paused.

"Leave us." Robb told everyone. "Jon, Harry, Lannister. You may stay."

A few hesitated to obey, eying the diminutive Lannister with suspicion.

"Go." Robb insisted, and they all complied, leaving the four of us alone in the large tent.

"Do you really believe Lannister, here—"

"Call him Tyrion." I cut him off.

"Tyrion." Robb acknowledged, before looking at the man in question. "Do you truly plan on allying yourself with the North?"

A long moment passed.

"I do not know." Tyrion finally replied. This, apparently wasn't the right answer, as Robb's face contorted in an angry grimace. "But what I _do_ know is that my family has not even sent a raven to discuss terms for my release. As far as I know, they've left me to spend the rest of my days as your prisoner."

I nodded in agreement. "They're more snakes than lions, the lot of them. They don't know what it is to live a simple life without creating conflicts meant to increase their own House's power, at the expense of many innocent smallfolk. I want to end it."

Tyrion eyed me. "Do you truly believe you can change a system that's been around for thousands of years? The Great Houses of Westeros are very powerful, and they will most certainly oppose you. You can't even cross a bridge because of House Frey alone, and it is certainly no Great House. How do you think you can beat House Lannister? Or Tyrell? Or the Baratheons?"

Something about what he said amused me.

I smiled. "I'm not even going to answer that. Instead, how about you find a good, safe spot, to watch the Twins' occupants get slaughtered?"

"So, you'll—"

"Of course, Robb." I said immediately. "Marriage just to cross a bridge? Especially when he's only forcing you to do it to further his own ambitions and greed, instead of end the war that's sure to ravage the Riverlands? You heard what the scouts reported on those villages as well as I did. Little girls raped. _Little girls_."

I took a breath to calm myself, before continuing.

"You know the plan." I said, receiving nods from Robb and Jon. "I go in, and force them out of their castle. I'll make sure they can't retreat to the second castle. Their only choice would be to exit through this side— and you can just slaughter them."

"Go. Jon and Lann—Tyrion, will watch over Hestia." Robb gave a nod, and I turned to leave. "And, Harry?"

"Yeah?" I turned for a second.

"Thank you."

"What are friends for?" I smirked and left the tent. My smile faded as my eyes landed on the Twins. I felt a little conflicted about killing all those people simply following their Lord's word— no, by getting in my way, they were endangering the lives of my allies, as well as the many blameless people who had already suffered.

End the lives of the few to save the lives of the many.

Utilitarianism heaven.

While I had a certain disdain for the cultures of this world, I knew it wasn't their fault. I would have likely felt the same if I were thrown in the past, in my own world.

Might meant right, here.

And that just didn't sit well with me.

" _Ever the champion of humanity, aren't you?_ " Erebus whispered mockingly as I began moving towards the Twins, placing myself under a Disillusionment Charm. " _You've saved your home world from the Demon Emperor Mundus, and you've been stranded here as recompense for your efforts. Why should you care for these people? They're not even yours._ "

" _They don't have to be._ " I thought back. " _People are people, no matter what plane of existence they're in. They have hopes and dreams, just like I do. I can't stand by and let this happen. I won't._ "

" _Sentimental rubbish._ " Erebus retorted. " _You must distance yourself from them, and become—"_

 _"Like you? Is that your endgame?"_ I cut him off, perhaps a little too harshly. " _You forget your place, Devil Arm. I will_ never _be like you."_

The sword went quiet for a few moments.

" _Of course, master."_ Erebus finally replied. I felt some resentment coming from the blade, but I pushed the thought to the back of my head. There would be another time for this.

None of the watchers on the walls of the castle saw my Disillusioned form as I began to scale the wall by digging my Lightning coated fingers into the gaps between the stone, creating the perfect leverage to climb up as quickly as possible.

I had to stop at one point, when one of the guards peered over the wall suspiciously, only for his gaze to pass right through me, quickly losing interest afterwards.

With a final weak grunt, I reached the top of the wall, and was faced with two archers. They were lazing about, sharing stories of girls they'd fucked, with each one trying to outdo the other.

If they'd been paying attention, they would noticed the distortion in the air as I pulled my wand out and adjusted my position slightly so that the three of us formed a line.

" _Diffindo!"_ I incanted, pointing at the archers' necks. The Cutting Curse came out as a green ribbon of energy which cleanly sliced through both archers' necks, ending their lives instantly as blood sprayed outwards, the flow lessening as the dead bodies slumped and fell to the floor, two large pools of blood forming and quickly increasing in size.

 _§The blood almost looks like strawberry jam.§_ Balthazar hissed. The observation was so out of place I blinked in surprise.

 _§Right.§_ I hissed back dryly.

I eyed the two corpses for a few moments, before shaking my head, Vanishing them, and moving on. I wandered along the walls of the castle, killing the guard patrols, as well as the archers. A small group of four had presented a small obstacle, as I hadn't wanted to draw any attention to what I was doing.

A few wordless casts of the Silencing Charm, and no one would hear the guard's cries for help as I liberally applied the Cutting Curse as many times as I could. Honestly, who needed variety when the basics worked?

I supposed I could gone for a huge entrance by tearing through the main gates and slaughtering everyone head on with my Lightning Dragonslayer Magic, but that was honestly stupid. Who, in their right mind, would do something like that?

It was foolish, reckless and would most likely have lead to my death, as I had no idea what the layout of the castle was. I could be ambushed from any angle.

" _Concentrate._ " Erebus said as I Vanished the bodies, removing any sign of they being there in the first place. " _Most likely, the men on duty have begun to realize something is amiss."_

" _True. Eventually they'll start asking questions or raise an alarm._ " I agreed. " _Time for phase two."_

Phase two was driving them out of the castle into the waiting arms of Robb's 'friendly' army, who had likely gathered itself up and was now just waiting.

I moved through the corridors and hallways, noting what was where— I would need the information, for when I wanted to set everything on fire.

That was the basic plan, really.

Start fires all over the castle, which would fill it up with smoke and heat, forcing the residents to leave. And, since the only exit they'll have is the one leading to Robb...

You could see where this was going.

After a few minutes of searching, I finally found the gate which led to the bridge. It was guarded by two disgruntled men, who looked like they fit better in modern America, in which everyone was a fat whale, rather than in Westeros, where only the rich were able to become fat.

I killed them, as well, before melting the gate's locking mechanism by placing my hand against it and channeling a fair amount of Lightning into it, turning the lock into a half molten mess.

A wave of my wand made sure that I wouldn't suffocate from the smoke which I was about to create. Sometimes, I loved knowing the Bubble-Head Charm.

And then, the massacre began.

" _Incendio!"_ I went from room to room, floor to floor, setting everything I could see on fire. Beds, sheets, supplies, furniture of any kind. If rooms were empty, I would cast " _Bombarda"_ to seal their entrances.

Smoke began to fill the air in the castle as its residents slowly began to realize fires were breaking out throughout the entirety of the structure.

"Fire! There's a fire!" Some guards shouted over and over as they tried to put the fires out with heavy rags or even taking their own clothes off and using them— only to realize their efforts to bat the fires out only gave them more fuel, as I had overpowered the spells so that only a massive amount of water would quench them.

As I passed by the rooms, I heard the hacks and coughs of the Frey men as they futilely attempted to stop my fires from spreading by moving some of the furniture away.

"That won't do." I murmured, pointing my wand at the furniture. " _Incendio._ "

The table caught flame immediately, forcing the men who were carrying it to drop it with a yelp of fright. The table hit the ground, collapsing into pieces which fell on a nearby carpet, setting it on fire, as well.

"We have to leave!" One of them said. "Any more and we'll die of the smoke!"

"He's right!" Another said. "Let's go!"

The ground shook as hundreds upon hundreds of men rushed to the gate leading to the bridge. The hallways were overcrowded, each man almost stepping over the other.

"What's taking so long!"

"Open the gate!" The men were starting to get riled up.

"It won't open! The key doesn't work!" The man trying to work the lock despaired, twisting with all his might.

 _Snap!_

The key broke, and the man fell backwards, knocking over half a dozen guards in the process.

I squeezed my way through the crowded hallways to the end of the line, before waving my wand at gate and incanting " _Incendio!"_ one more time.

The crowd reacted as expected. Quickly, almost as one, they turned around and stampeded to the other side of the castle, where, hopefully, that gate would lead them to safety.

They didn't consider the fact that they might be slaughtered by Robb's men. If they were in their right mind, they never would have tried it.

But, right now?

Half suffocated to death, scared out of their minds?

The likely thought going through their collective minds was "anywhere but here."

As the stone floor shook from the men stampeding their way outside, I noted with some bemusement that only a fraction of them had any weapons of any use.

I heard the sound of the portcullis being opened, and felt the drastic change in the air pressure; the flames around me grew stronger from the added oxygen, but it didn't affect me one bit.

The side effects of having a blade with control over the cold was that I really couldn't be affected by most fires when I stood near them. It would take something of significant magical power, like Jon's blue flames or the flames of a dragon— possibly this wildfire I've heard so much about— to cause me damage.

As it was, I simply walked leisurely outside watching the mass of three thousand Frey men— A " _Homenum Revelio"_ had given me that answer; three thousand, one hundred and seven, to be precise— running every which way out of the death trap they called a castle, into the waiting arms of Robb's army comprised of twenty thousand men.

Even if each Frey man had a weapon— which they didn't— they were already burned, suffocating, and panicking. The battle was swift, and bloody. I watched as the Frey men fell to arrows, swords, spears, axes and maces.

The battle began to die down as Robb's men were finishing off the rest of the Frey men on the field. I nodded to myself. The plan had gone off without a hitch, but I still had to cancel all of my spells. To that end, I went from room, to room, using " _Finite"_ and using Erebus to kill off any remaining, non magical flames.

Tedious work, extremely boring, but it was either that, or have Robb's army burn, and suffocate to death when they attempted to cross through the castle. I waved my wand a few more times in the main hallways, sending out gusts of wind to have the air circulate and purify itself of the taint of the smoke.

I gave up on that, after a few tries with little success.

 _§It'll clear itself up eventually.§_ Balthazar consoled.

 _§True.§_ I hissed back, making sure to breathe through my nose as I made my way outside. The modified Bubble-Head Charm was only applied to my nasal pathway, and not my mouth. _§I was hoping it would be a little quicker than this, but no plan is perfect.§_

With a wave of my wand, I disabled my Disillusionment Charm, as well as my modified Bubble-Head Charm, and walked back into the field, where the men were celebrating as they began looting the many corpses they'd created.

I stayed at the entrance as I was approached by the Lord Umber and a few of his men.

"Didn't think you could do it, lad." The Greatjon said as his gaze flitted from the sea of dead men to the empty castle. I followed his gaze, noticing the billowing clouds of smoke steadily being pumped out into the atmosphere, though there was less and less as the seconds passed.

Within a few minutes, the air would hopefully be safe enough to breathe— maybe not comfortably, but enough so they could walk through the castle's corridors.

"You actually doubted me, after seeing what I was capable of?" I smiled, dusting my shoulder off.

"There were thousands of men, in there." Lord Umber said roughly. "Any man with his wits would have doubts."

"Too true, Lord Umber." The voice of Robb cut in, as he approached us, wiping the blood off of his blade; Grey Wind was at his side, drenched in the blood of his enemies, its fur crimson. "But Harry isn't any man."

"Three thousand, one hundred and seven men, by the way." I corrected, before Vanishing the blood off of Grey Wind, who nudged me in gratitude at my helpful gesture.

"Not all men." Robb disagreed, pointing to a large group of women, looking bruised, burned and generally downtrodden, a fair few children huddled around them.

I winced at the realization that I might have killed children, but shook my head. Lord Frey could have avoided all of this by simply joining his power with ours, instead of extorting Robb, like that.

"Do not worry, Harry." Robb said, misinterpreting my wince. "I have already informed the men that any unnecessary... advances, shall we say, to the women in our capture will be dealt with harshly. There is no room for rapists in my army. Any who dare to do so will have the choice of their sword arm, or the Wall."

I nodded. At least there was that.

"Fair enough." I said, before pointing to the castle. "You might want to wait a little before going inside. The air's still heavy with the smoke of the fire I made."

"It's all right." Robb shook his head, gesturing to the thousands of dead bodies on the field being looted and then carried away to a quickly growing pile. "There's still plenty of time."

"Yes." I replied, not really knowing what else to say on the matter, before turning to Robb. "Where's Jon?"

"He elected to stay behind and watch over Ghost and Hestia." Robb said. "They're at the camp."

I nodded in reply, and began to make my way there. "If you'll excuse me."

"Of course." He let me go.

The trip back was quick, and uneventful. Apparently around half of the army had remained at camp— I supposed it made sense, as the battlefield would be overcrowded— but they still looked alert as they greeted me.

I graced them with nods and waves as I made my way through camp, eventually reaching the back of the camp, where Hestia, Ghost, Jon and Tyrion were waiting.

"Tyrion. Jon." I greeted the two as I petted Hestia's head. The she-dragon trilled and nudged me affectionately, before going back to play with Ghost. "Still doubt my ability to win this war and take down the Great Houses which oppose me?"

"I do not." Tyrion said, pointing at the smoking castle I'd single-handedly emptied. "It's obvious that armies and castle walls mean nothing to your power."

"I will give you Casterly Rock." I promised again. "It might be a little damaged and burning, but that can easily be fixed, given time."

Tyrion seemed to consider my words.

"And, you?" He inquired.

I blinked, not having expected that. People didn't usually ask what I wanted. Just look at Robb, he would ask me to do things for him, and he would reward me with things he believed I wanted, like a Lordship, lands, etc.

I didn't truly need any of those, but I took them because he could simply have given me nothing in return for my efforts.

But, having someone ask me what I wanted was new.

"What about me?"

"What do you _want?_ " Tyrion asked, looking genuinely confused. "The Starks clearly have nothing to offer you, that you couldn't seize, yourself. So, what is it? Tell me."

Jon bristled and made to speak, but I held him back.

"It's all right, Jon." I raised my hand to stop him from saying anything, before turning to Tyrion. "I don't blame him for questioning me— though you're literally the first person to ever do that. Mostly, people are just grateful I'm helping them. The Maesters always ask about my magic, about _how_ it works. You're the only one who's asked me _why_."

Tyrion patiently waited, staying silent as I spoke.

"Not even Jon's asked me that— but for a simple reason." I said, and quickly amended at Jon's slightly hurt look. "Betrayal is not something we think is lurking at every dark corner. If your _dear_ sister—" Here, Tyrion scoffed. "—Was anything in her childhood like she is right now, and, assuming the rest of your family is the same way, since it's the environment which ultimately decides the person's qualities and faults; then, I can infer that your life has been filled with deceit, betrayal and constant, shifting plans."

"You see me doing all of this for the Starks. All the magic, extending their food supply limit, enchanting their armor and weapons so that it's unbreakable, and many other things." I continued with a frown. "The reason for it is simple, and twofold. One, I want to avenge the death of Lord Ned by killing your sister."

My rage over the weeks and weeks of marching had quietened down considerably, though I still hated Cersei Lannister with a passion.

"The second reason." I continued. "Is that we need to fight the Others and their army of the dead, and I don't think I can do it alone."

I remembered that, while I was capable of wresting their control over Darkness and the cold for a short period of time, I would eventually succumb and lose to them. My Lightning wouldn't last forever.

"We _all_ need to be ready for it." I repeated vehemently. "That is why I'm raising Hestia. That is why I'm trying to patch the kingdom together by backing the Starks— they're the most honorable House I've met in this god forsaken land of imbecilic cunts."

"I see." Tyrion mused, and he truly looked like he did. "And, if I simply refuse to join you, you'll no doubt sack Casterly Rock, regardless, and install someone else there."

"Correct." I said simply, but my words softened. "Look, I'd prefer if it were you, since I've actually gotten to know you a bit, over the time you've been here."

"Is that so?" Tyrion challenged. "What exactly have you learned, then?"

"You often challenge other people's views, but try to learn from them at the same time; oftentimes, they end up learning from you. I know I have." I said bluntly. "You've not lived the best life— I'd heard rumors about a lowborn girl you married who turned out to be..." At his darkening face, I stopped for a moment, before getting on with it. "The point is, it's made your friendship and trust incredibly difficult to acquire."

He stayed quiet.

I sighed. "Look, Tyrion. I don't want you to get the idea that I'm doing this out of pity, or anything so petty and childish. You're smart, your trust and friendship are hard to get— but if I do get them, I know you'll be as loyal and honorable as the Starks, themselves. No offense, Jon."

"None taken." Jon replied, smiling nervously. Likely, he'd not been in these kinds of situations much in his life. Unsurprising, really; he probably used to spend ninety percent of his time alone back before I met him.

"So, am I wrong in my assessment of you?" I asked, after a few moments of silence.

"...You aren't." Tyrion allowed.

That was all I need.

I grinned and held my hand out.

Tyrion hesitated, but shook it, smiling slightly.

"You won't regret this." I said honestly. "You'll see."

"I'm sure I will." Tyrion said wryly, but not unkindly, before pointing at the second castle. "But, for now, I believe you still have some work to do."

"Yeah." I agreed, turning to leave. "This won't take long."

Sneaking in was a little tougher than the first castle, now that the guards were actually watching for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for me, the idea that the person attacking them could be invisible never crossed their minds.

And, why would it? Magic was extremely rare in this world; only a select few were capable, and most of them were second rate tricksters, from my studies on the matter— though, to be fair, I derived that conclusion from books written by people who didn't even believe in magic.

I could be wrong.

" _Focus._ " Erebus interjected helpfully.

I scaled the side wall, and waited until one of the patrols passed by, before hopping to the top and quickly making my way into the castle proper.

A quick cast of " _Homenum Revelio"_ told me that there were about a thousand humans in the castle. I supposed it made sense. Reinforce the castle which would be in direct conflict with the Stark army while having a reserve in the second castle in case the first gets breached and taken over.

Likely, Lord Walder Frey was also in here. I made my way through the halls, rooms, floors and such. No women, or children.

Had Frey seriously forced them to stay in that first castle?

 _§Makes sense in a sick sort of way.§_ Balthazar hissed to me. _§Prioritizes his defense at the expense of his more... disposable people. Women in this land aren't taught to fight, and the children would be too weak to actually defend his life.§_

And, it _did_ make sense.

I didn't have to like it, though.

" _All the better, for us._ " Erebus vibrated. " _No need to worry about your precious innocents._ "

I rolled my eyes, and stealthily made my way to the gates leading outside. The guards were on high alert, having seen what happened to their allies in the second castle, with most of the men posted on the north-eastern end of the castle which led to the bridge going over the Green Fork.

Five guards were posted at the gate, this time, but it was no cause for concern. Silencing charms, followed by an overpowered Banishing Charm threw the lot of the guards flying back, their bodies slamming into the heavy iron-oak gates, which didn't budge in the slightest, even as their armor was mangled and their bones were broken without a single sound to indicate their pain.

I Vanished them, before reshaping the lock into a mangled mess with my Lightning. I repeated this process with the other side, though there were no guards posted, there. Now, the long, and tedious bit of setting everything on fire.

Modified Bubble-Head Charm on, I began casting _"Incendio!"_ over and over, this time including the guards in my 'things I can ignite' list. The smell of smoke and burning flesh filled the air, but the Bubble-Head Charm held fast against the toxic fumes, converting it into safe, breathable air.

The rest of the guards, the ones I hadn't set on fire— yet— engaged in the same pointless attempts at putting out the fires, with no luck whatsoever.

Ten minutes later, and hundreds of men were either running around on fire, or simply collapsed... and on fire.

I stood in what passed as a feasting room, watching the Lord Frey cough and wheeze uncontrollably as the remainder of the Frey guard, a measly twenty men out of the original thousand within a castle, centered around him.

"Keep your Lord safe, men!" The same knight which had eyed Robb with amusement earlier in the day said, as Lord Frey wheezed, the heat and smoke almost too much for the frail, old man.

What was the knight's name? Stefan?

" _Stevron_." Erebus corrected.

" _Whatever."_ I rolled my eyes, drawing the black blade and pointing it at the compact group of men standing protectively around their disgrace of a Lord, who was confined to a chair. Probably couldn't even move.

I took in the old man's appearance. His sweaty skin hanging loose, his bald, wrinkly head. I took in his guards, all grown men, themselves.

To think, a few hours ago, they were smugly extorting Robb for everything he had, just to cross a damn bridge. They forfeited their lives and entire House for a bridge.

" _Leave nothing behind."_ I thought harshly. " **Dark Stream!"**

The flames in the great hall were instantly doused as Darkness spewed forth from Erebus, greedily enveloping all of the men with its power and consuming them like a torrential river, their cries unheard— such was the speed of the surprise move.

That was it. The House Frey stood no more.

"Good fucking riddance." I spat and cut the flow to the power, idly noting that Erebus burped— as he seemed to do whenever I 'fed' him— and felt a rush of information flood through my brain.

"Huh." I said. "You consume the knowledge of those you eat?" I said in the frosted room— though the temperature steadily went higher and higher the fires spread around the castle.

" _Indeed._ " Erebus replied as I made my way through the castle, putting out all the fires I had created with Erebus and liberal use of _"Finite"._ I passed a nondescript wall in the basement, and ran my hand over it, feeling it out for— there it is, the indentation.

So, I gave it a strong push. Though I had already expected it due to the knowledge Erebus had shared with me from the men's minds he had absorbed— most likely Lord Walder and his son Stevron— I was still surprised to watch the wall open up like a doorway.

Beyond it, were large piles of gold, jewelry, swords, and other trinkets.

 _§This must be from centuries of exacting tolls from travelers, merchants, nobles, and whoever else wanted to cross the bridge.§_ Balthazar deduced.

"Heh." I smiled cruelly. "Time to exact a toll of my own, wouldn't you agree?"

 **oooooooooo**

 **That's that.** What do you think?

Tell me what you think will happen in the next few chapters. Who are the antagonists? Who do you think Harry will have trouble with?

Lannisters and the Westerlands/Crownlands?

Renly Baratheon and the Stormlands/Reach?

Stannis Baratheon and the Lords sworn to Dragonstone, as well as Melisandre? Not to mention the fleet of ships under his command, as well as the pirates whose services he can enlist.

Lysa Arryn and the Vale?

Doran Martell and Dorne?

Greyjoys and the Iron Islands?

Wildling army from the North North?

The Others?

Or is it Daenerys Targaryen and her eventual army of freedmen, mercenaries, and three dragons?

The Faceless Men?

So many branching paths :) who knows what could happen, eh?


	26. Growing Stronger

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2016  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 26: Growing Stronger**

" _Dinumero_ _Gold Dragons_." I waved my wand at the huge piles of gold in front of me.

Wisps of energy appeared before me, coalescing into a number.

It read: "1,305,487".

It was a neat little spell that I had found at one point, but never thought to use, as the need never truly arose. The Counting Spell was invented by a muggleborn of the name Richard Wilder, in the year 1203 in England.

He simply got sick of counting things, and devised the spell to do it for him.

Truly a hero above and beyond the Founders of Hogwarts, themselves— creating methods for us lesser wizards to be lazy and immediately get the answers to our questions.

Ironically, he ended up learning more about numbers to accomplish the creation of the spell, but still claimed it was worth it. Probably used the whole "wise wizard who created a spell" popularity to get laid.

Obviously, the spell had limited use in day to day activities, unless you were managing your finances without actual computerized equipment and counting machines. How else would you know how much money you had?

It was easy if it was a small pile of a hundred coins, but what if your money was like a mountain? In my first year, I had foolishly thought that Goblins manually counted the immense piles of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts— until I learned the Counting Spell.

So, yeah; in the Frey Vault, there was one million, three hundred and five thousand, four hundred and eighty seven gold dragons.

I took around half and deposited it in my pouch with a wave of my wand. The rest would be for Robb and his army— I was no fool. Without being allowed to... _Sample_ the women, and after their massacring the escaping Freys, the army would need _something_ to celebrate about.

And, what better way than to have their leader receive over six hundred thousand gold dragons and share it among his Lords?

And, that was simply the currency within. Red, blue and green shimmered from the sea of gold, evidence of rubies, sapphires and emeralds. There were some musty tomes which looked like they had some much better days in the past.

I spent a few minutes in the Vault, sifting through the Freys' belongings until I came across a white, wooden protrusion from one of the piles.

"Huh." I stared at it for a few seconds, before leaning forward and pulling whatever this was out of the pile. A long, gnarled stick made out of weirwood. My eyes unfocused as I watched old memories of the Lord Walder Frey using it as a walking stick, of sorts, when his legs had begun to fail him.

I felt a thrum of power emanating from it, exactly like the feeling I got when touching the weirwood heart tree in Winterfell.

 _§Not just any regular stick, then? A staff? And the old man was using it as a walking stick, of all things...§_ Balthazar hissed curiously as I linked my own power with it. A sudden feeling of warmth and welcoming engulfed my form, and a smile immediately formed on my face.

"I wonder..." I said as I channeled Lightning to the edge of the staff, shaping it into a furiously spinning drill. " **Edge.** "

"It worked." I smiled and examined the spinning drill of Lightning, before forming another **Edge** on my right hand. "As I thought. The staff amplifies my powers— at least my Lightning, anyway. Let's see... _Wingardium Leviosa_." I aimed at a nearby rusted sword and slowly lifted the staff's point.

The sword didn't move.

" _Diffindo."_ I casted, aiming to the end of the vault.

Again, nothing happened.

I nodded.

"So wand-spells don't work with this." I mused with a disappointed sigh, before shaking my head. "Still, this new weapon might prove to be useful in some way. The immediate benefit of saving power is there, and, the magic felt easier to shape, better focused."

"Well." I amended slightly. "At least the ones that are not direct Dragonslayer moves. My **Roar** will always originate from my altered lungs."

I was more dragon in body than the Targaryens, themselves, after all.

" _A weapon is a weapon._ " Erebus rattled from within his bone white sheath. " _Refinement beats brute strength any day. The perfect example of this is your battle with Agni and Rudra atop the Temen Ni Gru._ "

I remembered that fight well. Those creatures were utter brutes in every sense of the word. They possessed no refinement, merely attacking furiously with their elemental swords.

I shook my head. There were better things to do than reminiscing.

The trip back to Robb's camp was short, and uneventful. Robb's army was already finished setting fire to all of the men they'd slaughtered, and were now calmly resting in camp.

A few of the posted guards that didn't participate in the battle— and there were plenty, as you couldn't really fit twenty thousand men in the small space the battle took place in— greeted me with happy cheers, and a few strange looks at my new staff.

I returned them with nods and gracious smiles, before making my way into the main tent.

"—Through the Whispering Wood. That's where many of his men will be, assuming they are sieging Riverrun, still, and not already successful." Robb pointed at key positions on the map.

"Our scouts will be relaying new information, on the march." Roose Bolton said in his soft voice. "Though, I agree with Lord Stark, it never hurts to have additional information on the matters, at hand."

"You give wise counsel, Lord Bolton." Catelyn praised as I coughed to get their attention.

"Harry!" Robb greeted me, eyes flitting to the staff for a few moments. "You've returned. It is done, then?"

"Yep." I said. "I emptied the second castle."

"They are fleeing, like before?" Catelyn frowned. "Perhaps if we held the Lord Frey—"

"You misunderstand, Lady Stark." I interrupted. "I burned them all to death. They're nothing but ashes, now."

A few moments of silence.

"You would have to wait a bit until the air clears." I said unnecessarily. "Probably half of an hour, an hour at most."

"I see." Whether or not Robb was rattled by the casual way I referred to decimating over a thousand men and their Lord, he didn't show it. "I thank you, Harry."

"You'll thank me even more once you get the loot." I smiled slightly. "Over six hundred thousand gold dragons, as well as jewels and other trinkets."

"Truly?" One of the Lords said in awe— Glover, his last name was?

"Yes." I nodded and looked at them challengingly. "That's only your half, anyway. I took my own share. Seemed only fair."

Robb waved it off, despite his Lords bristling.

"It would not have been possible without you, to begin with." Robb said easily. "Now, instead of taking a bride for myself and betrothing Arya, I receive the Twins, and six hundred thousand dragons."

Catelyn whispered something in his ear, and Robb stilled, before his tone grew cold.

"Leave us, Lady Stark." Robb looked away from her, nodding towards the entrance. She looked like she wanted to say something, before thinking better of it and leaving, holding her head high.

The other gathered Lords remained tense, looking between Robb and I, as if we were going to break into a fight at any moment.

Why?

" _Medieval mindset, boy."_ Erebus supplied. " _They believe Robb is losing face for deferring to you so much. Likely your comment about taking your own share without any sort of consultation, as well as his accepting it paint Robb as weak. He knows this. His mother knows this. His own banner men know this."_

So, how would I fix that?

I could simply apologize to Robb and act respectful, but it would only seem like salt in the wound, at this point— as if I was showing respect to him as a mere afterthought.

Or, there was another option, and that was to—

"Is that weirwood?" Robb asked suddenly, nodding at my new acquisition.

I nodded at the abrupt question. "Yes. The Lord Frey was using it as a walking stick when his legs began to fail him. He kept it in the Frey Vault, afterwards."

"A walking stick!" Robb looked furious. "To desecrate the Old Gods in this way...!"

There was a chorus of "Aye"s, his Lords looking equally furious, their disdain for the interactions between me and their Lord Paramount completely forgotten.

I stifled an eyeroll. The religious were always so empty headed. I was half expecting I had to knock some sense into them.

"Good riddance to the old fucker, then!" Lord Umber bellowed, moving over to slap me in the back. I smiled, feeling the tension in the room lessen somewhat as the Greatjon laughed.

I nodded in agreement, as the meeting continued, with Robb detailing his plan, taking some input from the gathered Lords but making his own informed decisions. This was an area of expertise I had no real skill with.

Predicting army movements and reacting accordingly.

Sure, I could gather the information, scout an area out and list where the enemies were, but I couldn't really figure out what exactly would occur in the immediate future.

But, the plan was to leave a fair few archers and men-at-arms— just like with the Moat Cailin, a negligible amount of men considering their army of twenty thousand strong, but enough to hold the Twins easily.

Other armies did not have a wizard who could sneak in a castle and sack it by reducing all of its occupants to ash.

Back to the plans in motion.

We were to ride to the castle and town of Seagard, which was directly southward along the map. There, we would join up with House Mallister, assuming they didn't betray their Lord Paramount like the Lord Frey had, and move on further south, skirting along the mountainous region on our way to Riverrun.

There, we would hit the Whispering Wood, where Tywin's men were likely waiting, if they were sieging Riverrun— or had already taken the castle.

In both cases, the plan was to smash the army to a thousand little pieces, before relieving the siege.

"A few more men will be left to take the remaining gold in the Frey Vault back into The North." Robb looked to Lord Umber and Glover. "I'm sure the both of you can spare the men? I'll be sending a few of my own, as well."

"Of course, my Lord." Glover replied, Umber a second later.

"Right, then." Robb took a breath and looked at all of his Lords. "We march at first light. Tell your men to get a good night's rest, for we will need it tomorrow."

"Aye." They all agreed, bowing their heads to Robb before they filed out of the tent, leaving me and Robb alone.

"You think they're going to question your authority?" I asked when we were finally left alone.

Robb snorted. "They already do. In fact, Lord Umber had even tried something of that nature, a few weeks ago. I had to deal with him accordingly. He almost lost two of his fingers before I put a stop to Grey Wind."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

I guessed I wasn't paying as much attention as I thought I was, if this happened without me knowing.

But then again, such was life. You could never be sure of what people did outside of your own realm of influence and awareness.

It was worrying in a way— and I wasn't referring to the Lannisters, either. That House was simplistic to the extreme.

I was certain that Lord Tywin had split his army into two, sending the main force to siege Riverrun while the smaller force made its way to King's Landing, in order to defend it from the possible Baratheon incursions, either east from the Blackwater Bay, or south from the Stormlands and the Reach.

My true enemies were working in the chaos which ensued.

The Red Priests of R'hllor. The Others.

Both factions, though enemies, were likely doing the exact same thing; building their respective armies of followers— whether it be the dead come back to life for the Others, or the blindly devout followers who'd set anyone on fire to receive power for the Red Priests.

Other possible enemies were the Faceless Men. I doubted after killing one of their members, they would simply let me go. The order was mysterious, and reticent. In the month I'd been marching, I had spoken with the Lords and the Maesters extensively, trying to figure out what drove these men to the life of a nameless assassin.

They gave up their sense of identity for their mission— to bestow the "gift", also known as death, to whoever asked for it.

And with it, came magic.

The ability to use the faces of the dead they collect, as well as enhanced senses, judging by how that Faceless Man could see me through my Disillusionment Charm.

Truly dangerous foes, if given the chance to act.

If they attacked while I was sleeping, distracted, or simply not paying attention, I likely could not react in time to save myself. When my guard was down, I was just as vulnerable as the rest of the humans. I had enchanted armor, sure; but, a simple stab through the face or the neck would fix that right up.

Still, I wasn't really sure what to expect from them. Their religion was based on Death and bestowing it on others. Was the contract still resolved if I killed their member instead of him killing me, or would that have simply exacerbated the situation?

I just didn't know.

At any rate, I vowed to test my food more often, as well as examine the people I'm talking to for any deviation in personality, however slight it may have been. Otherwise, I could die.

 _§That's called being paranoid.§_ Balthazar drawled in my mind.

" _Yeah, well, they said the same thing during my time at Hogwarts."_ I thought back. " _There's no plot to steal the Philosopher's stone, Harry; you're just being paranoid. Voldemort didn't try to come back by eating Ginny's soul, Harry; you're just being paranoid. There's no conspiracy behind Sirius' imprisonment, Harry; you're just being paranoid. There's no murder plot behind the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Harry; you're just being—"_

" _Agreed._ " Erebus said in irritation. " _I have been monitoring the powers in this world as much as I can— the experience is jarring and disorienting, even for an old being such as I."_

I heard Robb say a few words but it sounded like gibberish to me.

"Sorry, what?" I asked. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Is _anyone_?" Robb sighed tiredly. "I was saying I was going to sleep."

"Oh." I scratched the back of my head and laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, I'll go too. Take care!"

I heard Robb's grunt, turned and left, making my way to where Jon, Tyrion and our assemblage of... pets were located.

" _You've been keeping an eye on the world's energies?_ " I thought as I sidestepped a few men hauling carts of food and drink. Likely, they had drawn the short straw and were saddled with food duty.

" _Indeed._ " Erebus replied, the sword vibrating slightly. " _There are two Red Priests on this continent, now."_

I stopped.

" _What?"_ I replied in shock, before shaking my head. _"One of them is probably Thoros of Myr."_

" _Correct."_ Erebus confirmed.

" _And the other?_ " I asked.

" _Unknown."_ Erebus replied. " _But I have been feeling their power growing in the south east, as well as to the far east; likely, this is in response to the hatching of your dragon."_

Hestia was the cause? " _No, you can't be sure of that, Erebus."_

" _I cannot."_ Erebus allowed. " _But it fits."_

It did.

So, things were a little more complicated, now. For better or worse, I'd allied myself with The North, which was threatened from all sides.

"The plan remains the same." I ground out, getting some curious looks from the people I passed by.

"What plan?" I heard Jon say as I reached our own spot in the camp.

Ghost and Hestia were lying next to the fire, while Geryon was grazing on a nearby pile of hay. Tyrion sat by the fire, glancing in my direction for a moment before nodding and turning back to the flames.

I greeted the fellow teen as I took a seat by the fire, sniffing slightly as the scent of cooked meat entered my nose. Normally, I would have been salivating at the thought of venison, but I had just finished setting thousands upon thousands of people on fire.

So, instead of voraciously devour it, I took quick, light bites, making sure to keep my mind on the threats to the north, south and east, instead of the people I'd killed.

Jon sat by me.

"Hey." He got my attention. "What plan?"

I took another bite, and began filling him in.

"So, the Lannisters are still our most immediate threat." Jon said with a frown. "But it's possible these Red Priests will become the newest threat?"

I nodded patiently.

"And, all the while, the Others build their power north of the Wall..." Jon trailed off, a hint of worry creeping in his tone.

"Yes." I nodded. "We're in a bad way."

"Are we?" Tyrion challenged with a frown. "The Red Priests are likely not even aware of your existence, or they could simply be assuming the mindset of 'live, and let live'."

Hm. I hadn't even considered that.

"It's a fair point." I allowed. "All I really have to go on is the fact that magical power is growing from all sides."

"But, you seem to be getting stronger as well." Tyrion pointed out, patting the weirwood staff by my side. "The _smart_ thing to do would be to wait and see if these Red Priests will initiate hostilities against you and yours. To attack them without provocation simply because of the possible threat they pose is not only foolish, but hypocritical."

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Damn it, but you're right." I breathed.

"So, what do you plan on doing?" Tyrion pushed.

"Casterly Rock." I said. "It's still yours. After that, I'm not sure. Either the Wall, or defending against the Red Priests of R'hlorr."

"We'll wait and see." Jon offered up. "We don't all have to go to the same place, of course."

I nodded, smiling slightly, and taking a long drink from the wineskin. "Yes. You're right, Jon. I forget I'm not alone in this. You can handle the Wall. Tyrion will handle the West after we gain control of it. As for the 'Lord of Light'... we'll see."

We rose early the next day, and began to march to Seagard. The Crossing took a little longer than expected, but there was only so much you could do with twenty thousand men— nineteen thousand, now— crossing a bridge.

Robb, Lord Glover, and Lord Umber left a few of their own men behind, both to hold the Twins, as well as transport the spoils of war northwards, back to Winterfell.

This victory alone would have made the war worth in, gold and influence-wise.

The trip to Seagard would take a few days' time, but that only allowed me to get a better bearing on the situation with the energies of the world. It also let me ascertain what the general population thought of me.

Whispers ran rampant in the men's camps, hailing me as a hero on the level of those of old. Dragonlord. Black Dragonscale. Castlesacker. There was admiration in their words, but also an undercurrent of understandable fear.

Whispers of a darker nature rose, though they were quickly quelled by the fact that I'd enchanted their weapons and armor to be unbreakable.

You couldn't really argue _that_ particular point.

But, it was only natural that they'd question my intentions— I would have thought the same thing: "if he has this much power, what's to stop him from turning on _us?_ "

So, I would go around speaking with the levies, knights and men-at-arms, Hestia trailing behind me like an overgrown pet. I asked about where they were from, their likes, dislikes; their dreams for the future. Most would have called it a selfless move of someone who cares for the little guy— I called it self preservation on my end.

I felt a little bad for influencing them like this, but it was either this or allow for dissent to grow within the ranks, allowing for a worst case scenario of betrayal.

The gold from the Frey Vaults, and the fact that I reached out to the men mitigated that particular threat.

The first night of that march, I sat by Hestia after I'd gathered up some fire wood. I patted her on the back of her neck, hearing her chirp of pleasure at the touch.

With a wave of my wand, the wood ignited, crackling merrily as I pulled out and Engorged a leg of chicken, placing it over the flames to cook. Jon was spending the night with his brother, while Tyrion drank himself into a stupor with a few of the Stark men-at-arms he'd befriended.

I could hear their laughter even all the way from my own camp.

 _§Easy, Hestia.§_ I warned her as she made to snatch it with her razor sharp teeth. _§You'll enjoy it more if it's cooked.§_

 _§Cooked. Good?§_ Hestia hissed, looking at me as I drew back in surprise.

 _§You... You can understand me?§_ I hissed back.

She nodded, a behavioral pattern she'd likely picked up from me and others around us.

I took a deep breath.

Hestia could talk, just like Balthazar.

Why was this so surprising to me?

 _§Tongue, familiar, but not. Something else.§_ Hestia replied, the hissing sounding strange coming out of a dragon.

 _§It's the language of the snakes, Hestia.§_ Balthazar chimed in.

 _§What is "snake"?§_ Hestia asked curiously.

I felt the scales from my arm recede as Balthazar emerged, slithering towards the she-dragon slowly, looking up at her. I took a moment stare at my right arm, unscaled as it was— how long had Balthazar been merged with me? I'd honestly lost count.

 _§I am a snake, young one.§_ Balthazar hissed gently. _§My name is Balthazar.§_

Hestia stared at the smaller reptile, poking him with her tail and nudging him with her head. Balthazar let it happen.

 _§Snake. Balthazar.§_ She hissed. _§You are not like me.§_

 _§You're right, Hestia.§_ I smiled and spun the sizzling leg of chicken over the fire, swallowing down the saliva that built in my mouth. _§You're a dragon.§_

Hestia turned her attention to me as Balthazar slithered back around my body, easily merging with my arm once more, the metallic looking black scales reflecting the firelight. _§What is "dragon"?§_

 _§You are.§_ I hissed back gently. _§Would you like to see yourself?§_

 _§Please.§_ She replied instantly, sounding a little excited.

I smiled, pulled out my wand and incanted " _Speculo_."

Silvery light came forth, coalescing in a circular disc of reflective glass. It was a far cry from something McGonagall could conjure, but it did just fine. Hestia approached it, staring at her own reflection intensely, studying every inch of herself.

 _§That's what you look like.§_ I smiled down at the she-dragon.

She looked back at me, her emerald eyes gleaming in the firelight. _§I see. Thank you, Father.§_

 _§I— err—§_ I stammered slightly, before calming down and giving Hestia a wide grin, feeling something else bubbling up inside of me. Paternal love? _§Don't mention it, Hestia. Come on, the food is almost done.§_

Hestia's excited chirp made me smile even wider.

I was not alone, not anymore.

The next few days were spent almost exclusively speaking with Hestia, teaching her various words, methods of speaking, and the like. She picked up on it ridiculously quickly, showing an intelligence far surpassing that of a human.

 _§You've improved a lot in the short time you've learned this new language, Hestia.§_ I hissed as I rode on Geryon, with Hestia lumbering beside us. Tyrion had been given a pony from the stables of the Twins, and was having a little trouble riding it.

The castle and town of Seagard was in view of us. It was nowhere near the size of King's Landing, but had an imposing look all of its own.

Not surprising, as the fortress was built with Ironborn raids in mind. There was a large stone watch tower dwarfing all of the buildings around it to detect attacks on its coast. Entering the city through land would prove to be an even more difficult task, as it was sheltered by the Cape of Eagles it its west, and nestled near the headwaters of the Blue Fork.

 _§You really think so?§_ Hestia hissed before chirping happily, the sounds disconcerting when used in quick succession.

 _§Yes.§_ I smiled and dismounted Geryon as the army stopped to wait as a few horse riders bearing the coat of arms of the House Mallister— a silver eagle over an indigo field— rode to our location. _§It's made your growth a lot easier. You really have no idea how hard it was for me to try and teach you how to breathe fire.§_

Hestia snorted in amusement, but said nothing in return. Turns out, she _could_ breathe fire, but simply chose not to, as her flames were nothing more than weak streams barely worth mentioning.

She had, however, promised to light the fire every night as practice.

I saw the Mallister men eye me and Hestia with quite a bit of wariness, before focusing their attention back to Robb and the Lords surrounding him. They exchanged some more words, before they rode back to their castle.

"Harry!" Robb called out as I handed Geryon's reins to one of the many men under Robb's command. I watched the mighty horse get pulled away before motioning for Hestia to follow me and join the man in question, Tyrion doing the same. "Come!"

Robb approached me heedlessly— Jon, Ghost, and Grey Wind following him.

"Hey, Robb, Jon." I greeted quietly as Hestia crawled over to the two direwolves. "Are the Mallisters joining us, then?"

"Aye." Robb confirmed. "They've been ready for a while, it seems. Their scouts were aware of our marching, though I am not entirely sure if they're aware of what happened at the Twins."

I shrugged. "I'm not sure they care too much."

"All too true." Robb said. "The Freys have made a great many enemies among the Lords in the Seven Kingdoms. In any case, Lord Mallister himself shall join his power with ours in a short while."

"Point to him." I smiled. "He doesn't want to use up any more time than is necessary."

"Aye." Robb agreed with a nod, before turning to me.

"Jon has been informing me of events of a more... magical nature." Robb said as we walked around in wait, Robb's guards never too far behind, though they knew, if I really wished it, I could kill him at any moment. "North of the Wall, as well as the priests of this Red God."

"Yes." I said. "That is the true war waiting for us— at the very least, the one north of the Wall." I amended, before motioning to Tyrion. "Once we take the Westerlands, Tyrion will try to raise as many men as possible to send to the Wall."

"And, what makes you think I would agree to have Tyrion be the Lord of Casterly Rock?" Robb asked in challenge. "Meaning no offense, my Lord."

"None taken." Tyrion replied easily, though he still looked irritated.

Who wouldn't be?

"The fact that _I'm_ going to be the reason you take Casterly Rock _in the_ _first place_." I answered dismissively, and I met his piercing blue stare with my own, superior— I'd like to think it was— one.

"Fair enough." Robb huffed. "Being challenged by my own men has left me a bit standoffish, as of late."

"Don't worry about it." I waved it off. "Those fuckers look for any excuse to screw you over. Just say that it's your idea and I'll pretend like it's the best thing I've ever heard in my life. That should do the trick."

Robb looked uncomfortable at the thought.

I sighed and prepared to give the "grow up" speech, but Jon beat me to it.

"You weren't in King's Landing, brother." Jon said heatedly. "It isn't like Winterfell. You saw the Freys, and how they acted. The people we're fighting— their words mean nothing. Their oaths mean _nothing_. Why should ours? They killed Father, and then they tried to kill _us._ Sansa, Arya, Harry and I."

Jon panted for a few seconds before mastering himself. "Forgive me, Robb. I don't know what came over—"

"No, you're right, Jon." Robb said, looking down slightly.

"Father always used to say: 'when the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.'" Jon said slowly, sorrowfully.

"Aye." Robb nodded, a sad smile gracing his face. "He did."

"We have so many enemies now." Jon said and hugged his brother. "I don't want you to die, brother. Not if I can help it."

"Jon..." Robb said, overcome with emotion for a moment, before hugging him back. "Thank you."

"Anytime." The two pulled back.

Robb turned to me. "Harry. I will do as you ask. I just hope our men and the Lannister can work together long enough without killing each other."

I nodded gratefully, a wry smile forming on my face. "Thank you, Robb. We'll need all the help we can get."

"They're coming!" I heard a few shouts in the distance.

"Lord Stark!" One of the men approached us. "The Mallister men come."

"I see." Robb took a breath and we all headed to the head of his army. "Then let us greet them."

The Mallisters rode out in force, bearing a flag of truce as the Stark men chattered on excitedly. Thousands of men, led by their Lord. He had brown hair mixed with white underneath a winged helm, a chiseled face, and fierce, blue-grey eyes.

"Lord Jason Mallister." One of the Mallister men announced.

"Lord Mallister." Robb greeted once they were close enough and their army settled in.

"Lord Stark." Lord Mallister greeted back jovially. "I see the Freys have allowed you to cross their bridge quickly. I was not expecting you so soon."

"They did not." Robb refuted. "The Freys are no more. My friend, and close ally, Harry—" He motioned to me. "—saw to that."

A moment later, Lord Mallister's gaze shifted to me, and then to the dragon by my side. "Indeed?"

He dismounted and moved to me, completely ignoring Hestia and looking me over. Did this guy have no fear?

"Harry of the Blackscale..." Lord Mallister trailed off with grin. "I was there during the King's Tourney. I watched you slaughter the Mountain with my own eyes. It is an honor to shake the hand of a man such as yourself." He extended his hand, and I took it.

"Justice long overdue." I agreed with a nod. "Lord Mallister."

"All too true." He said. "I was unaware you possessed a _dragon_ , however."

"Hestia hatched only recently." I let go of his hand and patted her on the head. "Only the people here are aware of this, as far as I know."

I evaded the questions on how exactly I'd sacked Frey's castles.

"Lord Stark." I formally addressed him with a pleading look. This guy was a little too excited to see a dragon. "Shall we go?"

"Yes." Robb rolled his eyes in amusement. "Come, my Lord Mallister. Let us go and smash the Lannister armies and regain control of the Riverlands back to my grandfather, the Lord Tully."

Lord Mallister looked torn between wanting to ask a few more questions, and going back to do his duty to his Lord Paramount currently under siege.

"Yes." Lord Mallister said, still keeping his blue eyes on me for a few moments, before mounting his horse once more. "Let's."

 _§Well, at least you'll have followers in the Riverlands when you're done with this campaign.§_ Balthazar opined.

" _Shut up, Balthazar."_ I thought back as we began to march southward, once more.

Our destination? Riverrun.

One step further to my ultimate goal.


	27. The Whispering Slaughter

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2016  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 27: Whispering Slaughter**

The march to Riverrun took three times as long as the one from the Twins to Seagard— but Robb had insisted that his men get the required amount of rest to keep their minds and bodies as sharp as their enchanted blades.

Good news came in the form of Ser Brynden Tully, Robb's great-uncle— better known as the Blackfish. He was tall and lean, his clean shaven face craggy and windburnt. His once auburn Tully hair had gone to grey, but his eyes still remained a bright blue.

He had been harrying the Lannister supply lines as best he could with the small amount of men he had. Two hundred, at most, to the Lannisters' thirty thousand. They relied on guerilla tactics, ambushing their enemies while they were sleeping.

After the battle would be done, the men would carry as much food as they could, and set fire to whatever remained.

It was a good plan, and they were met with great success. Their scouts reported more and more men began to mutiny, or simply flee— all were killed for their disobedience, which stirred up even more discontent in the ranks.

Another bit of news was that Robb's prediction turned out to be true; Tywin Lannister had split his army, moving a quarter of it to Harrenhal, while the remaining three quarters besieged Riverrun, and set the rest of the Riverlands on fire.

Their army was scattered— likely, they were unaware of the army marching towards them. The Blackfish had done a lot of work, in that regard, having his archers kill any ravens he saw heading to and from the Lannister camps.

So, Robb called a meeting as the sun was going down.

"Riverrun is a few hours' march away." Robb adressed his lords in the main tent, while Grey Wind, Hestia and Ghost lounged around the side.

It was a point to the many Lords gathered here that almost none of them gave Hestia a second glance— with the exception of the Blackfish, as he wasn't used to seeing either direwolves or dragons.

"Ser Brynden's news have offered us an opportunity." Robb said, grasping the handle of the sword at his side. "The Lannister armies are scattered along the morale has taken grave hits due to a lack of supplies, and dissent within the ranks. Now is the time to strike."

"Aye." The Greatjon said, excitement in his voice. "Lord Stark is right. Now's the time to teach these southron cunts what happens when you attack the North!" He gave a glance to the Lady Stark. "Begging your pardon my Lady."

Catelyn nodded, trying her best not to roll her eyes at Lord Umber's behavior.

"It sounds too good to be true." Lord Glover objected. "How can we be sure they are not aware of our intentions?"

"No bird has reached them; my archers have seen to that." The Blackfish explained, smiling grimly. "They are scattered around the castle in three separate camps, with the rivers between. There's no other way to besiege Riverrun."

"The Lannisters have outnumber us by ten thousand men." Lord Glover insisted.

"The Lannisters are also very tired." I cut in, gaining the attention of the lords. "They're tired, hungry, and a few steps away from outright mutiny, if the Lord Blackfish's—" Brynden snorted. "—information is right. Ten thousand men at each camp. It will either be three battles against armies of ten thousand or two battles, one against ten thousand and the other against twenty thousand."

"Astute observation, Blackscale." The Blackfish replied, finding something amusing about that particular title— ah, he was the Blackfish, and fish had scales, as well.

"Trust in our men." Robb said with a confident smile. "With Harry's aid, we will be unbeatable on the battlefield." Here, a few men nodded. "But, more importantly, we're fighting for something more important than gold, and riches. We fight to save my Lord Grandfather. We fight to rid the Riverlands and the North of Lannisters and their gold."

"Aye!" The Lords all replied.

"We fight for something more than a useless iron chair in King's Landing." Robb was breathing hard as he drew his sword. "We fight so that men of the North shall never be slaughtered in the South! We fight for my father, Lord Eddard Stark, killed for doing the right thing! They shall face our swords and know the _fury of the North and the Riverlands! Winter is coming!_ "

A loud roar met his words as the entire army cheered.

"I— wha—" Robb almost looked dumbfounded, looking around in the tent as he sheathed his sword. "Are we being attacked?"

"No." I smiled, gaining everyone's attention, my wand in my hand. "I made sure the army heard your speech." The wonders of a simple _Sonorus_...

Robb smiled, nodding to himself as Lord Glover fidgeted nervously— everyone heard his own almost cowardly words. If the Lords dared argue against Robb now, well... Public opinion was with him, now.

I made sure of it.

"Then, let us go forth." Robb said, looking to his Lords. "Gather the men. Today, we free my Grandfather!"

The tent burst into a flurry of motion as the assembled Lords exited, barking out orders left and right, leaving Robb, Jon, Catelyn, Tyrion, Brynden and I in the tent.

"Well played, Harry." The Imp congratulated with a smirk. "The timing could not have been more impeccable."

I nodded graciously— the idea was his, after all. I had consulted with Tyrion, a few days after learning of the dissent within the Lords sworn to Robb. They did not feel he was leading them well, as he deferred to me on a great deal, often allowing me to get away with things he wouldn't let his own mother do.

Speaking of those two...

"Mother, I'm going to leave fifty men with you." Robb said. "They'll be your guard."

"Fifty!" She said in shock. "You need the men, Robb! Ten is more than enough."

They argued for a good while longer, until she finally gave up at twenty men, though she didn't look satisfied by that result.

"Jon, Harry." Robb turned to his 'brother' and I. "Are you ready?"

Jon nodded, and suddenly hugged him. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"I'm leaving Hestia with you, and the Lady Stark." I said to Tyrion.

"Are you sure?" Catelyn said, looking at the beautiful, blue scaled dragon wearily, her disdain for Tyrion forgotten for the moment.

"Yes." I gave a nod. "I've told her to help protect you until we all got back."

"We'll be waiting." Tyrion said, extending his hand to me. "It wouldn't do if I had to hear of your demise, Harry. My infinite wine-maker."

I rolled my eyes and shook his hand. "Take care of yourself, infinite wine-drinker." I joked back, before my features turned serious. I followed Robb and Jon outside, Ghost and Grey Wind trailing behind us while the shrieks and chirps of Hestia were heard.

The men were already in position, and it took a single shout on Robb's part to get them going.

"To Justice!" He had shouted and mounted his horse, and the men repeated the words from the top of their lungs, before marching forth. The trip was quick, and a little tiring, but we were all overcharged with excitement, and— dare I say— righteousness.

We finally crested a hill overlooking the large, forested valley called the Whispering Wood. A few of Ser Brynden's scouts were there, already waiting for us.

"It is not as you say, Lord Stark." They gave a short bow to Robb, who nodded impatiently. "fifteen thousand men encamped in the woods. Ten thousand further south."

"And the rest?" Robb asked.

"We're not sure, but we believe they are south east of Riverrun." One of the scout replied.

"Not what I was hoping for, but, perhaps it is better this way. Take half of their available force immediately and slaughter the rest." Robb said, smiling grimly, before riding down the line of his men, under the moonlit sky. "Tonight, we take back Riverrun!"

There was a muted cheer among the men, as we had to sneak over to the camps if we wanted this ambush to be done correctly. Ten thousand men, led by Lords Bolton, Manderly and Glover, would do their best to get as close as they could to the camps from the north east, before putting the Lannister men to the sword and torch. All the while, riders would circle the camp before splitting into two, attacking the men from the west and the south east in a triple envelopment.

I elected to go with the Greatjon, and Lord Mallister to the west end of the Whispering Wood, while Jon went with Robb and the Blackfish. Geryon snorted as we trotted slowly towards the camps within the forested valley. It was tense, and honestly quite boring.

"How long until the signal, do you reckon?" I asked in a faux light tone as we slowly moved closer and closer.

"Took us a fair while to get to this point." The Greatjon spat to the side. "Should be any moment, now."

Five minutes passed, and still nothing. And then, the screams started as flashes of orange light erupted in the forest as the howls of Grey Wind and Ghost echoed far and wide.

"There's the sign." Mallister acknowledged as I drew my new weirwood staff. It pulsed with power as arcs of Lightning appeared all over it. "Lord Umber."

The Greatjon nodded before bellowing to his men. "Let's get 'em, lads!"

A roar met his declaration as we all charged, the ground beneath us shaking.

"For the North!"

"For the Riverlands!"

Shouts of a similar nature were heard as we intercepted the fleeing men, cutting them down— or in my case, smashing them down with a contemptuous swing of my Lightning charged staff. We rode onwards, smashing through men like they were made out of paper.

Arrows flew and bounced off our unbreakable shields and armor, though a few of the horses were shot, forcing some of the men to go on foot.

A small setback, though nothing unexpected, I thought as I sent bolts of Lightning into the dozen or so archers, the scent of burning flesh filling the air as they all began to fall from their various spots on trees and the like.

A loud roar was heard ahead of us, a very large, but disorganized group of men charging right for us, swords and spears drawn. I stopped Geryon and hopped off the black stallion, shrinking my staff and drawing Erebus, who vibrated with anticipation and blood lust.

And then I _ran_ right into their lines, Geryon following right behind me. It was very similar to the melee during the Tourney of the Hand, though each and every strike of mine was aimed to kill. I tore into their shield line, Erebus cutting through their castle forged steel— and then them— like a knife through warm butter.

"Die!" One of them shouted as he drove his long sword in what he thought was a quick thrust, but was slower than a snail to me, as Lightning coursed through every cell in my body, enhancing them beyond the realm of human speed, completely missing my form as I simply sidestepped it, pivoted on my left foot and rewarded him with a quick decapitation, blood spraying from his neck, painting me crimson as his head hit the ground with a thud and rolled before stopping— but I had already moved on, blocking another man's swing with my armored arm, before driving my falchion through his plate mail like it was paper, before kicking him off my sword, right in front of Geryon, who crushed his head with a mighty stomp.

But, there was no time to rest.

Arrows flew from the back of their lines— were they not afraid of killing their own men?— forcing me to turn and shield my head as the men who were about to attack me were shot down by their own brethren.

I felt something metallic slam into my back, but it did little aside from knocking me forward slightly. I stopped my body with my right foot, stopping my stumble, before spinning to my left and slicing upwards diagonally, cutting through my attacker's sword, cleaving his left arm at the elbow and cutting right through his chest, right over his lungs. He fell forward, the shock sending him into blissful unconsciousness. He would not survive the next minute.

And, so we pushed onward, killing any men in our way, and trying my best to make sure my own allies didn't die, either by shielding them or by killing anyone about to catch them unawares, going deeper and deeper into the forest until the rest of men threw their arms down in surrender, having suffered extreme casualties from the perfectly executed ambush.

"Did we lose _anyone?_ " I asked after reuiniting with Jon and marching southward. He looked even bloodier than I did, though he still moved easily, and gracefully, like he wasn't even tired— same as me, really.

Ghost and Geryon walked by our sides, each trying to shake the blood off their skin and fur, to no avail.

"I don't think so." Jon frowned. "The men knew to defend their necks, faces, and such. I doubt we've lost more than a hundred men, at most, and those are only due to arrows finding their mark, or an enemy's lucky spear or sword thrust."

"Still, a hundred something dead out of twenty something thousand?" I smiled slightly. "A decisive victory."

"Yes." Jon agreed as we reached the Tumblestone River. "Not to mention the men from Raventree Hall joining their power with ours at the end, adding another thousand to our ranks."

I nodded. Their timing was almost perfect, as they charged the men who had repelled the Glover, Bolton and Manderly forces attacking from the north east, taking them completely by surprise.

"This looks like a good place." I said, and pulled out my wand. " _Defodio! Defodio! Defodio!"_

The earth was blasted apart with each successive use of the Gouging Spell. Another few waves of my wand, and I had pretty much created a makeshift bridge. Still, it needed to be a solid piece.

" _Callesco!_ " I jabbed my wand at the rock pieces, hearing a loud, sizzling noise as all of the individual pieces melted together, the water cooling it down quickly.

There.

"Let's go!" I called out to the men, some of which stared at the feat of magic with incredulous eyes, before being pushed forward by the impatient Stark men over the surprisingly solid bridge over the river.

This was part of Robb's modified plan. We would go over the Tumblestone River, and take the remaining Lannister men from behind, as they had no warning whatsoever from their brethren in the Whispering Wood.

The battle, if you could call it that, turned out to be an even bigger massacre than that of the Whispering Wood. Though the men were all getting tired, they were all still high on their last victory, and confident in their chances, as my enchanted armor had delivered on its promise to shrug off anything the enemy could throw at them, while their weapons never broke, or lost their sharpness.

Add to that, the fact that the Lannister men were caught completely unaware...

Jon and I didn't even get to fight anyone, this time.

Considering that all twenty something thousand men of the North and Riverlands charged north east into the Lannister camps, and with Tumblestone and the Red Fork blocking any easy escape routes to the north and east respectively, the remaining Lannister men were penned in, outnumbered two to one _and_ caught unaware.

Add to that, the fact that Riverrun opened its gates, allowing its besieged soldiers, led by Edmure Tully, I assumed, to attack the Lannister men from the north east, catching them in a double envelopment.

The next few minutes were nothing short of bloody and brutal, the Lannister men quickly throwing down their arms and surrendering, just like their brothers in the Whispering Wood.

After that 'battle', ten thousand men were sent out with orders to clear out the remaining five thousand men, south east of Riverrun, with additional orders to track down and stop anyone attempting to flee. If they resisted, their lives were forfeit. If they relented, they would be sent to the Wall— a gesture I appreciated greatly, from Robb's part.

A few more orders were issued out to start the cleaning process. Hostages were taken, including Kevan Lannister, Willem Lannister, and, in a surprising turn of events, Jaime Lannister, himself. The others taken were either grunts, or various Lords of the Westerlands.

"Ser Jaime." I said in slight shock as I approached the makeshift cell they'd made him sit in. As Lord Tywin's firstborn son, he held great value as a hostage and was kept away from the rest of his family. "I thought you'd be in King's Landing, still."

"Blackscale." Jaime greeted back, though he looked worn and beaten. Likely the men who'd taken him had also taken a few... Liberties, shall we say. "No, I was sent here at King Joffrey's command."

"You mean your sister's command." I corrected wryly, watching him closely. "Still, it matters little. Thanks to my efforts, the great majority of your army has been smashed into the dust with negligible deaths on our end. The remainder of the men who laid down their arms and surrendered peacefully will be sent to the Wall or held for ransom."

"As it is expected." Robb approached us, Grey Wind at his side. "Kingslayer."

"Oh, your Grace." Jaime said sarcastically. "Wonderful to be in the presence of the King in the North. _Such an honor!_ "

"King in the North?" Robb looked confused as he spoke. "What are you on about, Lannister?"

"Your proclamation as King in the North, Stark." Jaime shot back. "Or, have you already forgotten?"

"I am no King, Kingslayer." Robb denied, seeing the look of shock on the blonde haired man's face. "Who's supplying you with this information?"

Jaime looked a little uneasy, and tried to close his mouth, but a wave of my wand forced him to speak. He fought back with all of his considerable will, but I managed to get him to say a single name.

"Littlefinger." Jaime snarled as his face turned red with the strain against my spell. I cancelled it, hearing him sigh in relief and sag in exhaustion.

"Baelish." Robb snarled. "It keeps coming back to Baelish. This changes things, Harry. We need to hold a meeting in Riverrun, after we finish getting rid of the bodies. If the remaining Kingdoms believe the misinformation spread by Baelish..."

He turned and left, not even giving Jaime a second look.

"So." He started when I also made to leave. "What happens now?"

"You'll be held as a hostage, for now." I said. "Your father will tread carefully because of it, as you're his firstborn son."

"And what of the fate of my little brother?!" Here, Jaime fought against his restraints as he approached his prison 'door'. "Is he not as important as I?"

"Tyrion's fine." I rolled my eyes. "He's actually one of the few people in your crappy family whom I actually admire."

"People admire Lannisters?" Jaime asked, before shaking his head. "And, where is my brother?"

"Not people. Me. I admire you and Tyrion." I corrected. "We may be on different sides, but I know you're a good knight, and a good Kingsguard, even in spite of what happened during Robert's Rebellion."

"And, what would you know of that!?" Jaime challenged. "You weren't even there."

"I know that you killed Aerys for ordering you to kill your father." I said, watching his dumbstruck face. "I know he also planned to destroy the city by having his pyromancers ignite caches of wildfire hidden throughout King's Landing."

"I— how do you — I've never told anyone..." Jaime looked pained at knowing his secret was out.

"The curious thing about possessing a talent in magic.." I explained patiently, ignoring his start of surprise. "Is that I can perceive the spirits of the dead on our plane of existence. And they've shared so many secrets with me."

"Like _what_?" Jaime said doubtfully, before a loud trill and the heavy flapping of wings were heard as Hestia, as big as a horse now, landed beside me with a loud thud, staring curiously at the chained Lannister knight.

"Like where to find a dragon egg, as well as how to hatch it." I smiled as I patted Hestia on her neck's sweet spot, making her trill and chirp in pleasure as she leaned into my touch. Jaime simply gaped. "Among other things."

The trot of a horse was heard nearby.

"Seeing people's faces after they lay eyes on your dragon never ceases to amuse, Harry." Tyrion said as he approached us on his pony, dismounting it before quickly making his way to his brother.

"Tyrion, thank the gods you're alright." Jaime said happily.

"It's not the gods that have kept me safe and out of harm." Tyrion gestured to me. "I've declared for the Starks, brother— or rather, I've declared for Harry, who is allied with the Starks."

"What?" Jaime blurted out in shock. "Why?"

"It's quite simple, big brother." Tyrion calmly explained as he moved to sit by his brother's cage. "All my life, I have endured nothing but scorn and ill intent from everyone in our family but you, and a few others. You've always been kind and good to me, defending me from father and sister's constant attacks however you could."

"I—" Jaime looked pained.

"Let me finish, brother." Tyrion said gently, looking at me and nodding.

" _Alohomora."_ I waved my wand and the cage's lock clicked and the door swung open.

"What—"

"Magic, remember?" I rolled my eyes at his dumbfounded expression at such a casual feat of magic. "Focus."

"Jaime." Tyrion waved his hand in his brother's face, gaining his attention once more. "I've known about you and Cersei for a long time. Let me finish!" He added quickly as Jaime was about to say something. "I have never judged you for it. I know what happened in the North has hurt you greatly."

Jaime looked down, looking truly defeated now.

"She's killed the King, Jaime." Tyrion said. "Granted, not a good King in any fashion, but still the King. She killed the Lord Stark, as well."

"You don't know that." Jaime denied, shaking his head furiously.

" _I_ do." I cut in. "I was led a good ways away from King's Landing where a group of Baelish and Cersei's sell swords tried to murder me. I took care of them and rushed back to the Red Keep, where I found the dead bodies of Lord Ned and the King. A Faceless Man was there. I killed him, found Sansa, and tore a path through the soldiers with my Lightning—"

"That was _you?"_ Jaime asked in shock. "I saw the flash of light, and the devastation after... You did that...? And killed a Faceless Man?"

I lifted my left hand and channeled Lightning into it, lighting the area in its bluish white light, before clenching my hand, dissolving the power with a shockwave which rattled everything around me.

"That answer your question?" I smiled slightly.

A nod.

"Look." I said uncomfortably. "I don't really want to think about what you did with your sister—in fact, I'd rather we skipped that subject entirely, and never let that kind of news get out. But, you have a few choices, here."

"And, what would those be?" Jaime gave me a wary look.

"Option one." I lifted a finger. "You remain uncooperative and live as our captive, being held for ransom until this situation is resolved. Then, you'll either be executed, or sent to the Wall."

"Option two." I said. "Join Tyrion and I."

"And, do _what_?" Jaime almost snarled. "Kill my family? You'd have me become a _kinslayer_ on top of being a Kingslayer?"

"I won't force you to do anything you don't want to." I said. "I'm not Aerys, but this farce of a 'war' needs to end, and it needs to end quickly. We have a little bit of time to consolidate our power before the Others attack."

"The Others?" Jaime scoffed. "Snarks and grumkins."

"You've seen my magic." I said, and gestured at Hestia, who was poking Tyrion with her tail, the dwarf in question futilely trying to bat it away. "There's a dragon, right there, a supposed mythical being of magic and fire."

"I've seen their skulls in the past, when Aerys ruled. Giant beasts, granted, but magical..." Jaime shrugged dismissively. "And your little light show—"

I pulled out my wand and conjured a chair, calmly taking a seat as the impossibility of what I just did shut him up completely.

"Go on. Do continue." I grinned. "You were saying something about a 'light show'..?"

He closed his mouth, nodding for me to speak. Likely, he was speechless.

"As I was saying." I said. "Your war is lost. I've enchanted the Northerners' armor so that they are unbreakable. As long as they protect their vulnerable areas, they are essentially invincible from the common weaponry. You'd need Valyrian steel to break through— and I doubt you have much of that."

"'Tis true." Tyrion agreed. "Less than a hundred men lost, and fewer even wounded."

"The Whispering Slaughter, the men are starting to call it." I added, before shaking my head. "As we speak, the remaining five thousand men have either been killed or captured. Like I said, you have the choice of remaining a captive, or joining me."

Jaime looked down for a few moments.

"Please, brother." Tyrion coaxed. "You're not happy, now. _She's_ betrayed you, betrayed us."

"I will not kill my family." Jaime snarled out, and despite the chains holding him down, I felt a little threatened.

Hear me roar, indeed.

"No one said you would." Tyrion said. "You can simply guard me, if attacking our family bothers you that much, brother."

Jaime sagged. "There's no real choice, is there?"

"Either this, or the Wall." I shrugged. "I sincerely doubt you could provide any accurate data on the protections of the Golden Tooth, or even Casterly Rock, at that. You've not been there since you were fifteen, and I doubt you paid all that much attention to their defenses, even back then."

Jaime stared.

"You plan on taking the Rock." It sounded incredulous coming from his lips. "How?"

I smiled.

"Magic."

Hestia slapped me in the face with her tail. _§I'm sick of you saying 'magic' to everything, like it's an answer!§_

"Hey!" I protested. "He was begging for it! Ow! Stop that!"

The blue scaled she-dragon trilled and smacked me again.

A slow chortle came from the chained man, and he began to laugh.

Tyrion and I joined him shortly afterwards.

A short while later, the laughter died down.

"You don't have to decide, right now." I said. "I'll give you a few days to gather your thoughts, put things into perspective. Tyrion will stay with you at all times, though."

"You'll just let me roam the camp freely?" Jaime asked incredulously.

"I'm not worried. You've got no weapons and your enemies have unbreakable ones." I waved him off. "Furthermore, Tyrion will try to keep you out of trouble. And if you escape... Well..." I pulled out my wand and pointed it at a nearby rock. " _Accio._ "

The rock flew into my hand.

"I can summon you from anywhere." I said, fibbing a bit— not that he knew that. "But I doubt I'll have to." I smiled, and turned to leave, Geryon and Hestia following me obediently. "Think on what I said. I will see you two later."

And so, I left the two brothers to their own devices.

" _You really think he will stay?"_ Erebus asked.

"He's just one man, with no supporters, in doubt about his sister who'd betrayed him at least once— likely thinking 'how many times?' or something of the sort— with his brother, who supports me fully." I replied confidently, dismissively even. "He'll join us. I won't need to do anything. Tyrion's likely doing the work for me, as we speak."

" _Fair enough._ " Erebus said, and went quiet, as I was met with Jon, and a relatively clean Ghost.

"You've cleaned up fairly well." I noted lightly as he and Ghost fell in step with us, the combined armies of the North and Riverlands giving us a wide berth and staring at us with amazement— at least, the Riverlands men who weren't used to seeing Hestia and Ghost, or a horse following its owner without any reins.

"Aye." Jon said, pointing at the castle of Riverrun. It was a peculiar, triangular castle, though not especially large, though it was surrounded by water on all sides, making it practically unassailable. I'd heard they could last for two whole years under siege, if done right. "Robb has called an emergency meeting in Riverrun's Great Hall. What exactly it entails, I'm not really sure."

"The remaining Kingdoms have been fed misinformation by Baelish. They all most likely believe Robb has declared himself as the 'King in the North.'" I made quotation marks as I said the words. Jon's eyebrows flew high.

" _What?_ " He blurted out. "Surely, this is a jest?"

I shook my head in the negative as we crossed the drawbridge into the castle of Riverrun, finding a Tully man already waiting for us. "My Lords." He was about to say more, but stopped to gape and stare at Hestia and Ghost.

I rolled my eyes and snapped my fingers, gaining the dumbfounded man's attention. "What is it?"

"I—" He stammered, blushing in embarrassment. "I was told I should take you to the Great Hall, where Lord Robb is waiting."

"Very well." Jon said, trying not to smirk as I handed Geryon's reins to another one of the men, who obediently led the mighty stallion away to the stables. "Lead the way."

"O—Of course."

The trip there was fairly quick, though I had to endure the stares of shock, fear and admiration of the Tully men I passed by. I stifled the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose in irritation and grit my teeth through it all, until, eventually, we reached the Great Hall.

Robb already stood at the center, with a few men sitting on the nearby tables.

"Harry. Jon." He greeted us with a smile as Ghost and Hestia went over to where Grey Wind currently sat. "Take any seat you like."

We complied, and waited. Lord after Lord trickled in the room, as well as the Maester of the castle, an old man by the name of Vyman, who looked at the direwolves and dragons for the most part, though he seemed to master himself quickly enough.

Respectable enough, if he could curb his urges to explode into questions. I was thankful for it.

A few minutes later, with all the Lords finally gathered in the Great Hall. Robb began to speak.

"My Lords." Robb smiled grimly. "Tonight was a great victory for us! The majority of the Lannister army has been torn apart, and scattered to the winds. Their remnants to the south east are being dealt with as we speak."

A cheer came at his words, but died down quickly when he raised his hand.

"The remaining men will likely consolidate their power at Harrenhal, it is likely where the Lord Tywin is currently located." Robb said. "It is too early to tell, however."

"Our scouts are due to come in tomorrow morning, my Lord." The Maester Vyman bowed his head as he spoke.

"Excellent." Robb nodded. "There are a few matters which I need to bring to attention. Firstly, Jon Snow, come forward."

Jon complied, though he seemed surprised at being called forward.

"Kneel before me." He did.

"You have done my House, nay, your _brothers and sisters_." Robb said specifically. "The greatest service one could hope to ask for. You've saved Arya, and Sansa from the atrocities of King's Landing. You've fought valiantly, and bravely in the fight against the Lannister men, saving hundreds of our own from certain doom by selflessly cutting through their ranks."

He drew his sword and laid it on Jon's shoulder.

"Rise, Jon _Stark_ of Winterfell." Robb said, smiling down at Jon, who had looked up in unadulterated shock, which then turned to joy as he rose back up.

Not one of the present Lords dared protest it. I was definitely curious about what he actually did in that particular fight— he'd tell me eventually, I figured.

"You may resume your place... Brother." Robb smiled, before motioning for me to come forward. "Harry Potter. Come forward."

I froze for a few seconds as all attention in the Great Hall was focused on me, but I nodded and made my way to the fellow teen, giving Jon a smile as he passed me by and took his seat.

"I promised you a Lordship before we began our march." Robb said. "It was because of you, that our supplies have lasted so long, that we have lost so few men, and that we have made enriched our Houses." He was referring to the Twins. "Kneel, Harry Potter."

I knelt.

"Rise, Harry Potter. Lord of the Twins." Robb declared, and I rose back up, wide eyed at his declaration.

"Lord Stark!" A few of the Riverlands Lords protested. "The Freys—"

"Harry himself ended the Freys when they broke their oaths to their Lord Paramount." Robb cut through their protests harshly. "If it were not for him. We would have been delayed by days, and our weapons and armor would not have been so durable. As I see it, none of this would have been possible without him."

"Aye." The Northern Lords agreed without question.

"Still, it is highly irregular, my Lord." Maester Vyman interjected, gaining everyone's attention. "As you say, The Crossing is under the purview of the Lord Hoster Tully. It is not yours to give away."

"Come off it, Vyman." The Blackfish interjected with an amused scoff. "My brother would reward the man who showed Walder Frey his place— or anyone from House Frey, for that matter. I know him better than all of you, combined."

"Still..." Vyman protested, even as the remaining men reluctantly agreed. "He's a man of unknown history. Can we really trust him?"

"He's the man who bested the Kingslayer, Ser Barristan and the Mountain in single combat!" Lord Jason Mallister rose to my defense. "I've seen him fight. He has no mercy for his enemies, but watches for his friends as much as he can. I've had the time to take the measure of him, and I can find no better person to receive such a reward. Not to mention, the fact that he possesses a dragon means he is of noble Valyrian birth." He pointed at the snoozing Hestia.

He sat down, giving me a nod of respect, which I returned.

"Any more objections?" Robb questioned the men who glanced between me and Hestia.

No reply.

"Lord Potter." Robb continued with a tone of finality. "You may take your seat."

"Thank you, Lord Stark." I gave a short bow, before sitting next to Jon. We shared a look for a few seconds, both of us not really believing what just happened.

"Onto the real reason I have called you all here." Robb said. "I have questioned many of the Lannister men we have captured, and what they've shared with us is troubling."

"Indeed?" One of the assembled Lords said. "An impending attack?"

"No, this is information of a different nature." Robb shook his head, before pulling out a roll of parchment. "Ravens have been sent from King's Landing, stating to any and all that 'the rebel Stark has declared himself as the King in the North'. The letter goes on to say that any able bodied man should join the Westerlands' armies to quell the senseless rebellion. The bottom is signed by Joffrey Baratheon, himself, King of the Seven Kingdoms."

Absolute silence met his words.

"The King in the North?" The Greatjon repeated, sounding oddly thoughtful.

"Why?" Lord Glover asked dumbly. "Surely he realizes this only gives you more power, if he acknowledges you in this way, even if it is worded in a negative light?"

"I do not pretend to understand the boy's addled mind." Robb shook his head. "Further questioning of our prisoners has yielded us the source of this information. Lord Baelish of the Vale."

"The Master of Coin?" One asked, and Robb nodded.

"What of the Baratheon Kings?" Lord Bolton cut in softly. "Where do they stand, in this? Both militarily, and in response to this letter?"

"King Renly has the combined might of the Reach and Stormlands behind him, whereas King Stannis possesses the royal fleet, as well as the Houses pledged to Dragonstone." Maester Vyman informed the gathered Lords. "Though, no responses were issued from either Baratheon."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything." Lord Karstark cut in. "News takes time. The ravens could simply have not reached us, yet."

"Perhaps we should negotiate an alliance? Sue for peace with the Baratheons?" Lord Blackwood suggested.

The Greatjon laughed boisterously, rising up quickly, the chair grinding against the stone floor with a high pitched groan. "Declared a King by our own enemies... It reeks of their fear of the combined might of the Riverlands and the North!" A few loud agreements met his words. "Let the three Baratheon shits play at being Kings, while our _own_ _King_ has been in the field with us, this entire time! Our own enemies have already crowned him, so, why shouldn't we?"

He drew his humongous great sword and knelt down, holding it up towards Robb.

"The King in the North!"

"The Greatjon's words are true." Lord Mallister said, rising and addressing Robb. "But I do not believe you should be the King in the North."

Heated whispers and murmurs broke out.

"Because it is not only the North you've defended! We stand here, at Riverrun, the heart of the Riverlands, because of your pledge to protect the land of your Grandfather! A pledge you have honored by smashing the Lannister army only hours past!" Mallister continued, drawing his sword and holding it up to Robb, taking his place by the Greatjon's side.

"The King in the North, and the Riverlands!"

One by one, the gathered Lords and Ladies stood, proclaiming Robb King.

"The King of Winter!" "The King in the North and Riverlands!" They chanted, over and over.

Things were certainly getting interesting, weren't they?

 **oooooooooo**

Lots of changes in status, all across the board.

Next chapter, where do you think Harry will go from here?

\- Consolidate Robb's hold over the Riverlands?

\- Conquer the Westerlands?


	28. The Second Burning

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2016  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 28: The Second Burning**

"Hold the line!" A voice hollered over the fighting. "Maintain your shield wall, don't let them thr—GURK!" That was as far as he got as he took a Lightning bolt to the face, the resulting explosion knocking him down into a smoking, dead heap.

"Shield wall?" I said contemptuously as I channeled Lightning into my weirwood staff, the white staff's runes— a recent addition of mine, with the careful monitoring of Erebus— glowed a bright blue before I swung it like a baseball bat into the shield wall, bending the shields inwards and sending the men holding them flying back, their arms almost certainly shattered from the strength of the blow. "Don't make me laugh!"

"It's him! It's the Blackscale!" One of them said as I grabbed my newest attacker's sword and pulled him with it, bonking him over the head with the staff. I opened my mouth to reply, before closing it and running through their broken line, Jon following me with Ghost by his side.

Jon was having just as much of an easy time as I was, swinging Ice around like it weighed nothing, tearing through shields, armor and swords with the ease granted by his incredibly superior strength, and the magical properties of Valyrian steel.

That wasn't to say Jon wasn't being elegant about it— but, there was only so much you could do when a single swing of your sword broke through your enemy's defense, and then your enemy himself...

Ghost was having a bit of a tougher time of it, as he attacked opportunistically, lunging when the men exposed any weakness, and making them pay for it with their lives by tearing out large chunks of their vulnerable flesh.

"Argh!" A man who was trying to sneak up on me from the right exclaimed, held in midair by a camouflaged Hestia— something she had learned after watching Ghost's stealth and my own Disillusionment Charm. The only way I knew she was there at all was the fact that her claws were stained red, and—

She dropped out of her camouflage and **_roared_** , showing the fruits of our training as a long and wide stream of flame engulfed dozens of men, their screams and the crackling of the fire drowning out the rest of the battle.

"Holy shit!"

"Is that..."

"As I live and breathe... A dragon!"

"This is hopeless!"

"I surrender!"

The sound of swords, spears, axes, maces, and other weapons hitting the ground was heard as the men laid down their arms in surrender— but not before Hestia killed a few more of them with swipes of her tail.

 _§That's enough, Hestia.§_ I said, and the she-dragon obeyed instantly. _§They've surrendered.§_

 _§Oh, that was it?§_ She whined with a bored look in her emerald eyes.

 _§Yes.§_ I said, feeling faintly amused at the arrogance shown. _§You've gotten very good in a short amount of time.§_

Hestia's powers were growing every day, and I wasn't really sure it was natural, per se. Was it because of my presence near her, speeding up her growth to ridiculous levels?

Or was it simply her normal growth rate?

The information found in books on dragons was compiled by Maesters to try and understand this strange species of animal, with even some speculating that, since they are fire magic incarnate, they need some form of magic in the environment to get stronger; usually through blood rituals, or some such.

And, not to toot my own horn but, I was definitely a great source of magic; magic which Hestia was actively absorbing from her surroundings— I'd checked quite extensively.

It was barely more than a fraction of what little energy my body released subconsciously, but it was there, and the results certainly showed. The fact that she was Balerion's daughter also helped explain her growth.

And, after gaining conscious use of her energy, she began to channel it to increase the efficiency of her attacks— and I wasn't simply talking about her roar, which was admittedly impressive considering she wasn't even half a year old, yet.

No, she'd begun to channel her fire in all her natural weapons— her horned head, her powerful tail, and her sharp claws. She'd even named them, in honor of my own techniques.

 **Fire Dragon's Roar, Fire Dragon's Horn, Fire Dragon's Claw**... If she knew how close the names were to Fairy Tail... The names brought a smile to my face, the pleasant memories coming back to the surface for a few moments.

"You're oddly happy." Jon cut through my thoughts and wiped the blood off of Ice as the Lannister men were taken in chains and ropes by Northerners and Riverlanders.

I grunted in response, sheathing the weirwood staff in the makeshift staff holder I had made shortly after I was declared the Lord of the Twins.

I fidgeted slightly in discomfort; the weight behind my back would need some getting used to— it was certainly better, and saved a lot more energy than shrinking and unshrinking it every time I had to go to battle.

It was strange to think about, really. Robb had granted me that title after killing all of the Freys and taking their castle. I supposed it was a right of conquest thing.

In my home world, such concepts were abolished centuries ago as the human rights movements began to make great strides.

Aristocracy had no place there— but it was quite popular, here.

"You think that's all of them?" I asked as we moved to a nearby river, where Hestia and Ghost were busy cleaning themselves up.

"I think so." Jon nodded, kneeling before the river and splashing himself in the face. "It was the biggest group we've seen, yet."

I grunted in agreement, staring over the Blackwater Rush. "To think that they'd made it this far South, though..."

"Aye." Jon said, getting back up and taking a deep breath. "We're as far south as Tumbler's Falls. Robb made the correct decision to cut them off at Stone Hedge."

A few thousand had immediately fled from south east of Riverrun when the news of the majority of their army had been decisively slaughtered by the Northerners and Riverlanders.

Their plan was to go eastward to Harrenhal, where Tywin Lannister was camped. There, they could reinforce the men he already had— a number between ten and fifteen thousand.

The information wasn't a hundred percent accurate, but it didn't have to be. We'd already smashed through twenty five thousand men.

And, with my enchantment of the Riverlanders armor and weapons, that helped them even further.

Anyway, Robb thwarted their plan by directing a few thousand eastwards to Stone Hedge, as well as sending a raven to the Brackens, who'd joined their power with his and cut the retreating army off, which forced them to go southwards. Their army lost dozens every day, and scattered.

Which was why Jon and I were all the way down to Tumbler's Falls.

"That should be the end of them." Jon said, frowning in worry. "Hopefully, Robb's doing well with his own plans."

"He'll be fine." I tried to reassure him. "You know him. He always finds a way."

Robb was a tactical genius; I remembered looking at those maps and coming up with some feasible plans, but Robb's plans could dance around mine any day.

Apparently, after further questioning of the men we'd captured, they had revealed that a man by the name of Stafford Lannister had been training up new levies at the village of Oxcross, a few days' ride away from Lannisport.

So, in a high risk, high reward move, he took ten thousand men, a mix of Northerners and Riverlanders looking for some payback, and left for the Westerlands. At least, he had enough sense to take Geryon with him— I had left him at Riverrun in order to focus more on Hestia and her training.

She was big enough to ride, now. I was surprised at how easy it had been, but then again, Hestia never fought against anything I had suggested, even the concept of me riding on her back.

"You're right." Jon sighed.

"We have bigger things to worry about, anyway." I reminded him. "He's counting on us to take Harrenhal while he takes care of things in the west. They think they can annihilate us with a double envelopment from the east and west. A solid tactic; it would have worked, if it weren't for our presence on the field."

Jon smiled grimly, and we retreated away from the carnage, into a large, open tent, overlooking the Blackwater Rush instead of the dead bodies lying behind us. A few waves of my wand, and we had a table, as well as a few chairs. A few more, and a few sheets were on the ground.

"My Lords." A few men came in, as Hestia and Ghost made themselves comfortable on the admittedly thick sheets. Behind them were the two Lannister brothers, Jaime and Tyrion.

I nodded and patted one of them on the shoulder. "Thank you, friends. Go, get some rest. You've earned it."

"Thank you, my Lord." The man said gratefully as he bowed and left, the rest of men doing the same. I stared outside for a few seconds, before turning to Jaime and Tyrion. "I trust you've not made any fuss over your 'imprisonment'."

Jaime snorted as he and Tyrion took their seats.

"You know what I'm going to do at Harrenhal." I said as I pulled out my pitcher of wine and enlarged it, as well as a few cups, before pouring some for myself, and letting the others do the same.

"Your father is encamped in it. He stands no chance, between myself, Jon, Ghost and Hestia." I took a sip of wine as Hestia gave an acknowledging trill at the sound her name.

Jaime angrily got to his feet. "You can't expect to simply stand by and let you kill my—"

"I expect you to let me _finish what I was about to say_." I said acerbically. "I plan on hearing his side of the story, as I'm fairly sure that this whole war is the doing of _Cersei_." He flinched at the name.

"And he might be the unlucky dumb shit caught up in her schemes. If he is the source of the assassination on the King and Lord Ned, then his life is forfeit. If he is not, I will spare his life. It's as simple as that— live or die, Tyrion will rule Casterly Rock by the end of it."

"If you have a problem with it, then you're the shittiest knight I've ever heard of. So many people have died because of this pointless war. Tens of thousands, just from the recent battles, not even including the smallfolk caught in the crossfire! Are any of them less important than your father?" I asked and threw two large pieces of beef to Ghost and Hestia, before turning back to Jaime.

He looked sufficiently chastised by my words; hopefully, this would be much less uncomfortable when I was older. Scolding people who were double my age or older felt so awkward.

"There are more important things to worry about than the petty wars between men." I said ominously. "I can feel the Others' power growing. A subtle thing, extending its reach slowly, carefully. Days are getting colder, and colder. I'm sure you've noticed it."

"Could simply be winter approaching faster than expected." Tyrion replied dismissively. In response, I drew Erebus and tapped it on his cup. The wine within immediately froze, and Tyrion let go of the cup, unprepared for the sudden cold which traveled through his palm and into the bone.

The cup broke, leaving a solid chunk of wine on the floor.

"Or maybe their power over the cold is increasing, like my own." I sheathed my sword as Tyrion rubbed his palms furiously together, trying to get feeling back into his hand. "It feels only slight, but there's a definite increase."

"How much time do you think we have?" Jon asked warily.

"I don't know." I admitted uneasily. "But I'm trying my hardest to get everyone at their strongest for when they do show their fucking faces—" I turned to Jaime. "—Not that any of you are making it easy for me."

I took a deep breath, and relaxed in my chair, scratching at the stubble forming on my chin— I'd need to shave that.

"Priorities." I muttered before getting up, and moving to sit beside Hestia, who circled me for a few seconds, much like a cat would, before laying down in a way which surrounded me.

Overgrown softie, she was. I would never say it to her face, of course.

 _§You feel it, too. Don't you?_ _§_ I hissed softly as I leaned back into her form, feeling the vibrations of her breathing. _§The air is shifting, ever so slightly; but it's there.§_

 _§Is that what that is?§_ Hestia hissed back sounding perplexed. _§I'd honestly thought it was you farting.§_

One. Two. Thr—

 _§What?§_ I asked in baffled shock. _§Who told you that?§_

 _§Balthazar.§_ Of _course_ he did.

 _§When?§_ I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose in irritation.

 _§Last night, while you were sleeping.§_ I felt a flash of amusement from the snake/arm/thing.

 _§No, little one.§_ I sighed. _§Balthazar is just playing a prank, and a rather terrible one at that.§_

 _§A prank? What's that?§_ Hestia asked, nudging me slightly to the right so she could get more comfortable.

I smiled fondly at the young she-dragon. _§Playing tricks on others— though it has to be harmless. Watch.§_ I pointed my wand at Jon, who was busy staring solemnly over the Blackwater Rush.

" _Rictusempra._ " I incanted, and he broke into a fit of giggles.

"Wha— Stark?" Jaime looked away from his cup, taking a moment to stare at his brother in equal parts amusement and nervousness, before turning back to Jon. "Have you gone mad?"

I cut off the spell after a few moments, grinning at the disgruntled youth, who'd immediately fixed a glare on me.

 _§That's a prank.§_ I explained.

 _§You made him laugh?§_ Hestia asked. _§I don't understand, father.§_

 _§I made him laugh, which caused him embarrassment.§_ I explained gently.

 _§What's embarrassment, father?§_

I kept forgetting that Hestia was so young... No time like the present, I supposed.

 _§Well, embarrassment is what happens when...§_

We talked— rather, hissed— well into the night.

 **oooooooooo**

The trip to Harrenhal was quicker than I was dreading, but slower than I was hoping. There were no roads to make our paths any easier. The terrain was rough, mountainous, and quite unforgiving.

Even with my increased vitality and fortitude, I felt the marches tiring me out; I could only imagine how the rest of the men felt.

Luckily enough, not a single one of them complained, as food and drink was always available, and if I'd learned something from my months of living in this backwater world; it's that a drunk— on booze, I meant— and fed army is a happy one.

I would share with you the details of the trip, but honestly, there really wasn't anything of note. We woke up at the crack of dawn, fed ourselves, our horses— in my case, Hestia, and in Jon's case, Ghost— and marched north east.

We had a few Tully scouts lead us there, as we weren't exactly following a road. I always made sure to cast " _Point me Harrenhal"_ to make sure I was still on the right path; but the scouts went above and beyond, and we managed to avoid a lot of rough— _even rougher than what we currently endured_ — terrain, which saved us a lot of time on the march.

A few weeks of this, and we'd finally made it to Harrenhal in the late evening, where Robb's men— around fifteen thousand, thanks to my Counting Spell— were waiting for us.

"We've made sure none of them attempt to escape, Lord Stark, Lord Potter." Jason Mallister called out as our ragtag group of men approached the sieging army. He looked a little weathered, but otherwise just as resplendent as when I'd first met him.

He dismounted his horse and approached us, clasping arms with us while shamelessly staring at Ghost and Hestia, who stared right back at him.

"Will we witness the second coming of the Burning of Harrenhal, then?" Lord Mallister gave me an odd look.

"To an extent." I confirmed with a grim nod as we began to settle ourselves in the camp. The men stared at us in wonder— funny, how I'd grown used to the attention, once more— as we went in further, and deeper into the camp. "Though..."

 _§Hestia, stealth mode.§_ I hissed lightly, and she complied, her blue scales shimmering slightly before she went transparent. _§Follow me to a tent.§_

 _§Yes, father._ _§_ She hissed back, as I turned to the astonished looking Lord Mallister. "Do you have any tents big enough for us?"

"I—" He said, before shaking it off. "Yes. Follow me."

I nodded in thanks and followed him to a rather large tent. "We'd prepared this for you, in advance. King Robb has ordered that you be the commander of this mission, as you're uniquely suited for it." Lord Mallister said wryly as we entered, closing the entrance behind us.

"Exquisite accommodation." Tyrion said sarcastically at the practically bare tent. There were six beds, a large table at the center, and some chairs.

Aside from that, absolutely nothing.

 _§Okay, you can disengage from stealth mode, Hestia.§_ I hissed, and Hestia shimmered back into view, circling me affectionately before staring at Lord Mallister.

"Remarkable." He breathed in admiration. "I never knew dragons were capable of such feats."

"Interested in dragons?" I questioned.

"Indeed." Mallister replied, giving me a hopeful look. "Every boy's dream was to have a dragon to command and ride... May I?"

"Hm." I considered his request. "It's not for me to decide."

 _§Would you let this one pet you, Hestia?§_ I asked.

 _§Okay!§_ She replied and chirped, approaching the wary, but excited human. Lord Mallister extended his hand slowly, eyes wide with anticipation, and a little bit of fear. He shook as his hand brushed against her blue scales for a few seconds, before she leaned into it.

I rolled my eyes as Mallister's face broke out into a full blown grin.

Then, Hestia growled suddenly, making him jump back in terror at the smoldering gaze she'd sent him.

And then, came the strangest sound I'd ever heard. It was a strange, musical trill that suspiciously sounded like a laugh. Hestia's shoulders shook in mirth as she watched the baffled human try to make sense of the situation.

"I— Wha—" Lord Mallister was at a loss for words.

"I think, my Lord Mallister." Jon smiled in amusement. "That Hestia has played a successful prank on you, just now."

"Your face, man." I grinned and patted the she-dragon proudly on the head. "Priceless."

Even Jaime was somewhat amused— though he covered it up with his unhappy frown. I supposed he had the right to be upset at everything, with what was about to happen to his father's army, and his father.

I sighed and wiped the moistness out of my eyes, before telling Hestia to go play with Ghost in the corner for a while, and taking one of the many seats.

"Have you eaten, Lord Potter? Lord Stark? Lords Lannister?" Mallister said the last part with some disdain.

"Yes, a few hours ago, while on the march." I replied easily, leaning back into the chair making it groan slightly at the pressure. "What news do you have of the situation? You mentioned King Robb?"

"Yes." Lord Mallister nodded. "The last we'd heard from His Grace, King Robb, was that he'd found a secret pass in the mountains around the Golden Tooth, and that he planned to sneak his army to the other side and smash the levies being trained by Ser Stafford Lannister."

I nodded, idly noting that Jon's face relaxed slightly at the news. "Good. I was hoping he'd figure out a way to avoid the Golden Tooth. That should make things easier for him, and his men. And, Harrenhal?"

"Tywin's encamped in that monstrous castle with enough provisions to last quite a long time." Lord Mallister said. "We are unsure of the exact amount, but it would be safe to assume they could last for a year, at least— and with the Ironborn attacking..."

"Ironborn?" Tyrion cut in smoothly.

"Yes." Lord Mallister said in irritation. "Seagard repelled their invasion force, but the Westerlands ports have been ravaged. Even the North has suffered their attacks, though they were mostly concentrated at Barrowton, Torrhen's Square, Deepwood Motte, and Bear Island."

"Why?" Jon asked in irritation.

"They're the Ironborn." Mallister spat to the side. "Damned Balon Greyjoy and his obsession with the Old Ways, and paying his damn Iron Price."

Oh, the Iron Price. It was the idea that warriors acquired all of their possessions by taking them from their defeated enemies, instead of trading with gold. Pure rubbish.

"At least, that Greyjoy boy, Theon, has a head on his shoulders." Lord Mallister mused. "Heard he took charge in the defense of Seagard, smashing their ships with ease, and that he plans to help the Northern ports and towns affected by these attacks."

Jon and I smiled. Theon had definitely come a long way from the idiot I'd humiliated in Winterfell.

I nodded and addressed everyone. "They picked a bad time to attack us, but it's not so bad— they're also attacking the Westerlands, which is pretty much going to destroy their influence over the Seven Kingdoms even more."

Tyrion grunted, though he and Jaime looked a unhappy. Oh well.

"This makes thing simple, actually." Jon agreed.

"Aye." I replied, having picked that particular response from all of the Northmen I'd been marching with for the past few months. "Robb is likely smashing the levies at Oxcross, and he left Harrenhal to us."

I turned to address Lord Mallister. "Have the men ready to battle, Lord Mallister."

He stared at me for a few seconds, before nodding. "As you wish."

"Likely, when the inside of Harrenhal gets set on fire, the men will flee." I elaborated at his inquiring gaze. "We'll wait for nightfall, and then, Jon, Hestia and I shall infiltrate the castle."

"I see." Jason nodded in understand. "You plan on attacking them at their weakest."

"Essentially, yes." I confirmed. "That's why I had Hestia hide herself quickly."

"The damage was done, though." Jon shook his head. "Many have already seen her arrive with you."

"True." I concurred. "Meaning that tonight is our only chance. They've been holding the castle against invaders from the land, but I doubt Tywin Lannister is foolish enough to not expect an attack from the sky the moment news of our arrival reaches him— and it will reach him."

"Well said." Lord Mallister said, giving Tyrion and Jaime strange glances— more Tyrion than Jaime, as Jaime looked suitably upset, while Tyrion merely looked impassive. "He is one of the most dangerous men in Westeros for a reason."

I nodded, though I didn't really agree, as we'd smashed through every single one of Tywin's armies with ease— though that's more due to Robb's tactical genius, and my own enhancements to the men's equipment, weapons and supplies.

The next few hours were spent hashing any details out. Where Mallister's men would wait, which formations to assume, whether or not to take prisoners, etc.

We waited a couple of hours longer, before Jon and I exited the tent, Hestia following behind us.

"You ready?" I asked as we stared at the castle. It was hard to believe that medieval humans built this place. It had five towers of dizzying size, with monstrous curtain walls. It was easily several times larger than Winterfell, even as a ruin. I could only imagine how monstrous the original castle was.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Jon nodded.

I pulled out my wand, tapped him on the head as he shimmered out of view, the Disillusionment Charm taking hold, before applying it on myself.

We both got on Hestia, who also shimmered out of view.

 _§Let's go.§_ I said simply. Hestia trilled, and took, the flapping of her wings silent from my use of the Silencing Charm, though I could still feel the displacement of air from the motion, itself. _§You remember your part, right?§_

 _§Hestia.§_ I hissed when she didn't reply.

 _§Yes, father.§_ She sounded a little scared. _§Breathe fire on anything I see when I hear the signal.§_

 _§And, what's the signal?§_ I pressed.

 _§A loud boom?§_ She tried.

 _§Yes.§_ I smiled, patting her on the head as we rose over the monstrous Harrenhal's curtain walls. _§You'll do just fine. Just remember—§_

 _§Stay away from arrows and whatever they throw at me. Yes, father._ _§_ She sounded a little irritated at the end, there.

 _§I'm proud of you.§_ I hissed. Hestia didn't reply instantly.

 _§Thank you.§_ She said, before she hovered in mid-air for a while. _§Where do you wish for me to land, father?§_

 _§Hm...§_ I considered the area around me. _§Bit to the right, no, we went too far. Go a little to the left— there. Straight down.§_

Hestia complied and lowered herself until we were a few feet above ground, her flapping wings creating a cloud of dust, which was waved off as strange wind by the nearby patroling guards, who relaxed and went back to their nightly patrol.

Jon and I hopped off of the she-dragon, making no sound as we touched down.

 _§You know what to do.§_ I told Hestia. She remained for a few moments, before flying up with mighty flaps of her wings, causing even more dust to fly in the air, though, my application of the modified Bubble Head Charm saved us from any choking fits.

The patrol of guards, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. They all began to hack as the unexpected dirt entered their lungs. They never got to clear their lungs, as they were all felled by Jon, whose Disillusionment Charm failed as soon as he attacked.

I winced; I hadn't applied the charm well enough.

I called him over, before tapping his head with my wand once more, re-initiating the spell, and watching his form shimmer into nothing, once more.

"Try to use Ice a little less." I said. "Its magical power seems to interfere with mine, so, for the sake of stealth, try to avoid using it?"

Of course, that was pure speculation on my part, but it was just as likely that the use of a dagger would cancel the spell, as well. There was no way to tell.

"Sure. I'm going to scout the castle out, see where everything is, so I can set it on fire, later." Jon allowed, before stalking away, judging from the footprints he left in the sand.

I pulled out my wand after a few moments, and incanted. " _Point me Tywin Lannister."_

The wand veered to my upper right, pointing to the tallest of Harrenhal's towers. It was lopsided beneath the weight of slagged stone, with an arching stone bridge which connected it to another, shorter tower.

I stifled a groan. If only I'd used the spell before Hestia dropped us off, I would've been on that bridge quickly.

Oh, well, no use crying over spilt milk.

I snuck around the edges of the huge courtyard, where a few men were having mock battles to pass the time, as a few more told stories to their fellow soldiers, though those who were listening were bored, as if they'd heard the stories hundreds of times before— which was probably true, all things considered.

I entered through the base of the largest tower, blindly navigating through the maze inside for at least ten minutes, until I found the stairs.

" _Okay, good._ " I thought to myself, before pulling out my wand and casting " _Point me Tywin Lannister."_

The wand pointed up, with a small incline to the left. He was still up there— " _perfect."_

Ascending was a long, boring, and breathtaking experience. I had to stop and press my body to the wall as a few Lannister patrols passed me by, but the trip was uneventful— _easy_ , I told myself.

I made sure to recast the spell every few floors, just to make sure I hadn't went too far, until I reached the correct floor— technically I overshot it by one level, but that's beside the point!

I made my way through the halls, following my wand's direction until I reached a door which was guarded by two men in Lannister armor. Disposing of them was quick and easy; a muttered " _Silencio!_ " followed by a single cast of Diffindo, aimed just right to slice through both of their necks, their headless bodies dropping silently onto the ground.

Another wave of my wand, and the bodies vanished.

I took a breath, and approached the door.

A wave of my wand, and the door silently swung open, revealing a somewhat lavish bedroom— though the bed was unoccupied. Tywin Lannister stood in front of the window, looking down at the men below as a breeze rolled in, likely due to the door opening.

He turned, frowning at the open door with green eyes, speckled with gold. He was tall and broad shouldered, and, though he wore nothing but night clothes, his frown was intimidating enough.

He began to move to the open door, likely wondering why the guards hadn't ensured it remained closed.

" _Stupefy."_ I muttered and pointed my wand at his form, red light erupting from it and engulfing him. Tywin Lannister dropped unconscious.

 _§Well, that was easy.§_ Balthazar quipped as I grabbed the man and carried him in my arms, bridal style— I couldn't wrist tearing him apart with my wings of Lightning, if I'd decided to carry him over my shoulder.

 _§Yes.§_ I replied, setting the man down on the floor and pointing my wand outside. " _Periculum!"_

A large, blue spark shot out of the window, before detonating in a very loud explosion.

I wasted no time and grabbed Tywin again, and channeled my Lightning to form wings. I winced as I heard the sound of tearing cloth as my **Air Raid** went in effect, filling the room with a bluish white light.

I heard Hestia's shriek as I hopped out of the window and flew away from the humongous castle. My Lightning wings flapped and quickly carried me away from the range of any possible arrows the Lannister men might have fired at me— though, I figured they were too busy dealing with the sudden fires that had broken out everywhere, as well as the young she-dragon overhead.

She spat out flame on the stables, the carts, carriages— anything that looked flammable, she set it on fire. Flashes of blue from another part of the castle were seen as that section also erupted in flames.

Jon had started, as well.

A minute later, I touched down in front of Lord Jason Mallister, who stared at my wings in open shock— heh, get it? Cause my powers are electric... Never mind— and dumbly took the 'most dangerous man in Westeros', nodding when I ordered him to keep Tywin away from his sons, for the moment.

At least, until Harrenhal was ours.

"I'll have the men ready for battle, my Lord Potter." Mallister bowed deeply, before turning and barking several orders to his men, who nodded and took Lord Tywin away.

I gave a nod, before flying right back to Harrenhal, where the party was at.

I flew over the wall, and landed in the courtyard I had dropped in initially, before reining my Lightning back in. A quick " _Reparo!"_ had my shirt ready for battle, once more, though I didn't re-apply the Unbreakable Charm around the repaired spots, this time— even if the men around me seemed more intent on trying to quench the flames than fight.

The whole situation was a repeat of what I'd done to the Freys, really. You didn't really need any amazing spells to cause havoc and mayhem in tight spaces. Just a simple, diligent spam of the Fire Making Spell.

" _Incendio!"_ A chair.

 _"Incendio!"_ A bed.

 _"Incendio!"_ Empty buckets which could have been used in the fire fighting effort.

" _Incendio!"_ Some tapestries caught fire, falling on a group of men who panicked and ran into walls, doors, other men, and even stables, tearing away good chunks of the flaming tapestry.

Hell, they were doing my job for me, at this point, I thought grimly as I set fire to any Lannister soldier who seemed smart enough to avoid the craziness— though those were few and far between.

The bodies began to pile up as Jon and I joined forces as Hestia rained hell from above.

"Okay, I've got an idea." I said as Jon cut through a few men with Ice, before taking his hand off of the hilt and pointing it at a few men who were attempting to escape, engulfing their forms in his powerful blue flames. They screamed loud and hard for a few moments before collapsing, the fire licking at their bodies, and filling the air with the stench of burnt leather, human meat, and metal.

"What?" Stopped for a moment to look at me.

I held out my hands. "Take my hands, this is going to be good."

Jon gave me a strange look, but complied.

"Now, what?"

I smiled and initiated my Air Raid, stifling a sigh as the Lightning spewed out of my back, through the un-enchanted parts of my shirt— it was probably better this way, as I wouldn't have to channel any excess energy to simply manifest my wings. Unbreakable Spells were hard to beat, as the entire point of their existence is to be very rigid. The answer was literally, in the name.

Anyway, I pulled Jon up to the peak of the highest tower, taking a little while to do so.

 _§Hestia!§_ I hissed out as we reached the top. The slagged stone floor beside me shook as Hestia landed on it, staring at it intently for a few moments— " _the work of Balerion, her real father"_ , I thought to myself— before acknowledging my call.

"Okay, you two." I switched to English, knowing the she-dragon could understand English just as well as Parseltongue, though she could not speak the former. "I want you to shoot your flames down. Your strongest streams of fire you can manage."

"Will those even reach?" Jon frowned. "We're very high, up here."

"Don't you worry about that." I smiled. "That's where I come in. Just do as I say, all right?"

Jon nodded, deciding to trust me.

I turned to Hestia and stared at her, until she nodded, before smiling grimly.

"Ready?"

"Yes." Jon replied as Hestia trilled.

"Do it." I said and waved my wand in a spiral, before jabbing it in the same direction as the flames that Jon and Hestia had just shot out.

" _Ventus Maxima!"_ I incanted.

It was a simple spell I had learned in my third year at Hogwarts, called " _Ventus"_. The Wind Jinx; at its best, it only served to push heavy logs and knock Malfoy down on the ground— the latter was always more fun to cause, or witness.

But then, I added the modifier " _Maxima_ " to it. What did that mean, exactly? A modifier never changed the base effects of the spell, only the intensity by which it worked. Its directional vector, and amplitude were decided through different modifier phrases, like " _Minima_ ", which drastically lowered the effects of a spell, " _Separatum_ ", which split a spell into many different parts, etc.

So, what did the " _Maxima_ " modifier do?

Stronge gale force winds shot out of my wand and into the flames, increasing their intensity and range at least ten fold. The small streams of flame turned absolutely monstrous as the entirety of the ground floor— and a few of the upper floors— of Harrenhal was submerged in blue and crimson fire, roasting all of the Lannister men alive.

Maybe having Lord Mallister's men be ready for a battle was pointless...


	29. Nothing is Ever Simple

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2016  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 29: Nothing Is Ever Simple**

We cut off the flow of our combined magics, and stared at the terrible sight below us— a monstrous castle bathed in massive crimson and blue flames, lighting up surrounding lands for hundreds of miles in all directions.

Clouds of smoke billowed up into the sky, darkening it even further, contrasting against the light from the powerful flames.

The screams had stopped quite a while back; and, even if they were still screaming, we probably wouldn't be able to hear them over the roar of the fires consuming anything and everything flammable in Harrenhal.

"Incredible..." Jon breathed, staring down at the destruction, before looking at his own hands, as if seeing them for the first time.

"Do you understand, now, Jon?" I asked calmly while patting Hestia on the head. "This is what magic is capable of. What are swords against that? What is an army?"

Jon nodded solemnly. "It is a terrible power, indeed."

 _§I'm hungry.§_ Hestia hissed a few seconds later, completely killing the serious mood we had going.

I sighed, rolled my eyes, and replied. _§Well, let's get going, then.§_

"Jon." I said, and nodded at Hestia, while invoking my Air Raid.

He got on her back without hesitation, and we took off.

A minute later, we landed at the same spot where I had left Tywin prior. A few Mallister men were waiting for us, giving us awed stares as we approached them.

"Take me to Tywin Lannister— and bring some meat, as well." I ordered, reining my energy back in. The wings winked out of existence, the bluish white light going with it.

They took a second to register the words, before nodding hurriedly and leading the way through the large encampment of men who are also staring at us in awe.

"They're the second coming of Aegon the Conqueror!" One whispered to his comrades. The dam broke as everyone began to cheer.

"The Flame Wolf!"

"Dragonlord!"

I smiled and waved, urging Jon to do same, though he did it half heartedly. Likely, he wasn't used to such positive attention.

"In here, my lord." We stopped at Mallister's command tent.

I nodded. "Thank you. I assume Lord Mallister is also inside?"

"Yes." One nodded.

"Good. That will be all for now." I dismissed them before entering the tent, Hestia and Jon right behind me.

Lord Mallister was already inside, reading a missive, while Tywin Lannister was bound in a chair to the side. The table had already been cleared of everything that could possibly help the head of the Lannister House.

"Very thorough," I thought to myself as Jason took notice of our presence.

"To an extent, you said?" Jason quoted what I had said to him not twenty minutes before, mouth quirked in a smirk. "A second Burning. I never thought I'd see its like. And, those blue flames..." He glanced at Jon, who looked away towards Hestia, who had settled in the back of the tent.

"Ah... An illustrious teacher, then?" Jason stated, eyes flying between Jon and I.

"Yes." I confirmed as a few men came in with a basket full of meat, which they carefully placed near Hestia. The moment they backed away, she tore into it, cooking it with her fire breath.

"Jon had the magical potential. That's why Ice chose him, after all." I gestured to the great sword on his back, after we stopped staring at Hestia.

"Indeed?" Jason scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I had wondered why His Grace, King Robb, hadn't taken the blade for himself."

"Magic is not something to take lightly." Jon said, repeating one of my many lessons to him. "You can learn it, feel it, become one with it, but it is a powerful force. Its choices carry incredible weight— I simply choose to respect its choice, and so does my brother."

"Fascinating." Jason said, before shaking off his amazement. "My apologies, Lord Stark, Lord Potter. I have allowed myself to indulge in my curiosity for long enough."

"No worries." I waved it off before turning my attention to the unconscious Tywin Lannister and pulling my wand out. "We might as well get started, though. _Rennervate!_ "

Red light covered Tywin's form for a few moments, seeping into the skin and bringing him back to the land of consciousness.

He shifted slightly, likely making note of his restraints, and stilled for a few moments, eyes still closed.

Playing possum? I supposed it would have worked had I not woken him up, myself.

"Lord Tywin Lannister." I said, rolling my eyes. "You can drop the act. We know you're awake."

A few seconds passed, before the man's eyes opened. Green speckled with gold landed at Lord Mallister, Jon and I, before they resumed their coverage of his entire field of view, though he seemed to completely ignore Hestia as he did so.

" _He's noting the exit, the tent itself, and likely using this silence to gather his thoughts_." Erebus whispered to me, slightly impressed. " _A bold, and quite intelligent human, indeed_."

His eyes settled back onto me, before stopping for a few moments and flying wildly back to Hestia, who was busy tearing through the meat offered to her. He stared at her for a long moment, before schooling his features and turning his eyes back to me.

"Who are you?" His voice was cautious, but strong.

"Straight to the point, then?" I smiled humorlessly. "My name is Harry Potter."

His facial expression barely shifted as he took in the name. I had to hand it to the guy, he could hold a pretty composed expression.

"You are the Blackscale, then?" There was a hint of disdain in the way he said it.

I showed him my right arm, in response. The hexagonal black scales of Balthazar gleamed in the torchlight. He stared at it for a while, and then back at my eyes.

"I've burnt Harrenhal to the ground, much like Aegon Targaryen did, almost three centuries past. Your army is in shambles. Your levies at Oxcross are likely being slaughtered as we speak."

I waited a few moments before talking once more. "The Ironborn attack your lands with impunity. Your coastal cities burn, and you can do nothing to save them."

I let those facts sink in for a few, long moments. "I only really have one question for you."

I fixed him with a piercing gaze. "Were you the one who hired the Faceless Men to kill the King Robert and the Lord Stark?"

He didn't answer, his face betraying nothing.

 _§He's confused.§_ Balthazar hissed to me. _§I can smell it.§_

"You're confused." I noted condescendingly. "You don't understand why I would ask such a question. Clearly, they were hired with your money, so why do I simply assume it was on your orders?"

Tywin didn't give a single sign that I'd gotten to him, but I knew I'd pretty much said what he was thinking, word for word. No way in hell I didn't get to him.

"The answer you give will determine your fate; either death or banishment. I'm sure you can tell which answer leads you where— and, a lie leads you to death, just so we're clear." I explained calmly.

I raised my left hand and drew my Lightning forth, filling the tent with a low chirping noise and a strong bluish white light. "Answer carefully, Tywin Lannister."

"What will happen to my House?" Tywin replied with a question of his own.

Amusing; he thought he could get control of the conversation, even in this situation? I was half tempted to just kill him and move on.

Still, I supposed such brass was to be rewarded, even if it was irritating as all hell.

"Your son, Tyrion, will rule the Westerlands." I ended up humoring him.

His face turned even stonier.

I hadn't thought that was possible.

I also didn't care about how he felt.

"As for Cersei Lannister, her life is forfeit. I will spare her two younger children." I continued, his body language not affecting me in the least. "Joffrey dies, and so does his mother."

Tywin opened his mouth to speak, but I closed my hand, the Lightning exploding with a shockwave which rattled the man, along with the chair he was tied to.

"They could have worked to better their situation peacefully." I almost snarled.

"Joffrey would have inherited the whole of the Westerlands; is this not so?" I questioned, staring at my left hand. "Their greed and lust for power has led to war."

"A war that you've lost horribly— make no mistake about that." I reminded.

"So, I'll ask you again."

"Tywin Lannister." I turned back to him and held eye contact. "If you don't answer, this time, you will die. Did you, or did you not hire the Faceless Men to kill King Robert and Lord Stark?"

A long moment passed.

"I did not." He finally said.

§He's telling the truth. I feel nothing but apprehension and a healthy amount of fear from him.§ Balthazar hissed to me. Erebus echoed in agreement.

I stared at the head of House Lannister for a few moments, before nodding.

"I believe you."

And then I waved my wand, Vanishing the man's bindings. I stifled a grin at the expression on his face.

I could tell he was trying hard to seem nonchalant about the impossible feats he was witnessing.

"Your sons will be here shortly." I said, waving Hestia over and making to leave. "Lord Mallister will decide how your exile shall progress. Until then, you shall be our... honored guest, shall we say?" I nodded to Jason.

"Of course." Lord Mallister replied dutifully.

 _§Hestia!§_ I hissed towards the back of the tent and left the tent.

 _§Coming!§_

The most dangerous man in Westeros... What a joke!

 _§Certainly, dealing with our own enemies in our home world has greatly skewed our understanding of the word 'dangerous'.§_ Balthazar hissed to me while Hestia nodded in agreement without understanding— as all children are wont to do.

"Fair enough point." I replied as Jon also emerged.

"So, now what?" I asked as we made our way through the camp, the soldiers greeting us with cheers and congratulations. "House Lannister is beaten."

Jon was quiet for a few moments. "It will depend on what Robb wishes to do, but I believe we shall be dealing with the other Kingdoms. Stannis and Renly, most definitely."

I said nothing.

"There is also the Wall..." Jon suggested.

I shook my head and sat down on the dirt floor. "No, not yet."

"Why?"

"We've ensured the Westerlands will help us when the time comes." I replied. "But, our chances are maximized with the rest of the Kingdoms. We're missing the support of the Reach, Dorne, the Stormlands and the Vale of Arryn. Maybe even the support of the eastern continent, if it comes to it.. What we need is more information." I reasoned it all out.

"So, wait for Robb, then?" Jon said to clarify.

"Pretty much."

"And, in the meantime?"

"Train and relax?"

"... Sure."

And so, the waiting game began.

A few weeks had already passed when we received word of Robb's victory at Oxcross, which meant that he was probably already back in the Riverlands, possibly even at Riverrun. This led to even more celebrations- these people celebrated things at the drop of a hat.

At least the food wasn't too bad.

The drinking games were a thing of legend— but then again, with Tyrion as part of our crew, it was to be expected. Jaime was also pretty good, in that regard, though not many wished to talk to the man— some reputations just can't be fixed, sadly. Perhaps, in time.

Jon mostly trained with Hestia, further developing his friendship with the she-dragon. Strangely enough, the two could understand each other through body language alone—something I never gave much thought to, but could probably attribute to Jon's Targaryen lineage from which he tried so hard to escape.

"Look at them go!" One of the soldiers said as they watched one of our spars.

It was something Lord Mallister had convinced us to do, I thought as I ducked underneath a horizontal slash from Jon's practice greatsword.

He had said it would be a good pastime for the men.

With nothing else to do but sit around and wait for orders, there was no doubt that everyone would get antsy and start doing their own thing— which, in turn, would lead to general chaos.

So, to avoid it, many measures were enacted, from sprinting races, to archery contests, to friendly spars, like the one I was having with Jon.

But, our spars were different than the others, as there were certain rules and restrictions in place to keep things interesting.

Yesterday's rule was that we had to have one of our hands tied behind our backs as we duked it out.

Today's rule: a four way battle between Jon, Hestia, Ghost and I, with no magic, or fire breaths, what have you.

Jon made to continue, but was blindsided by Ghost's tackle, sending him flying into Hestia's tail, which was used as a clothesline. I winced as I watched him spin and slam into the dirt, before groaning and trying to get back up.

"Ooh!" The crowd grimaced as one as they witnessed the whole thing.

Loud barks drew my attention back to Ghost, who was sprinting to me, fangs bared. I knew it was pointless to try and dodge the great big direwolf, as Ghost could easily change his trajectory to match mine.

Instead, I met him head-on, grabbing onto his snout with my right hand, while I maneuvered myself to his left side, jumping over his back so I wouldn't lose the tight grip I had on him. Then, I pulled his head down, in an effort to make him submit.

He struggled mightily, but I had positioned myself in a spot where his legs— neither front, nor back— could reach me. It was only a matter of time before he would—

That was as far as I got as I felt Hestia's tail snake in between the two of us, holding us tightly together.

Shit!

I'd thought she was still busy with Jon.

My eyes turned to the prone form of Jon, who was slowly getting up. He must have been more disoriented than I thought.

 _§I got you!§_ Hestia crowed at me as she held Ghost and I down to the ground.

 _§Oh yeah?§_ I challenged, grabbing her tail and putting it close to my mouth. _§Well, I'm going to eat you!§_

 _§Noo!§_ Hestia almost shrieked and let us go the moment I opened my mouth to bite. _§Not fair, father!§_

Heh.

 _§Life's not fair!§_ I retorted and looked to Ghost. "Team up?"

Ghost made no move to reply, aside from turning his head to the large Hestia. Good enough for me.

"Go!"

Ghost immediately went to work, leaping onto Hestia's back, driving his forepaws into her neck. The blows barely did any damage, but they weren't supposed to.

Hestia's full attention was on Ghost, as she tried to shake him off, or slap him off with her tail— but he avoided every single strike with great ease. A roar of challenge came from the side as Jon leapt onto the back of Hestia's neck, using his considerable weight to bring it down.

I knew what I had to do. Her attention shifted to Jon as her tailed whipped towards him, only for it to smash against my scaled arm. Wasting no time, I grabbed hold of her tail and used every ounce of strength I had to hold it down, as well.

Hestia struggled to get free, and we struggled harder to keep her down.

She almost succeeded, a few times.

 _§Give up!§_ I hissed.

 _§No! Let me go!§_ She cried, trying to unfurl her wings with no luck. Ghost had that area pretty covered— literally.

 _§Give up, or...§_ I trailed off with a grin. _§I'll eat you, for real this time!§_

 _§Okay! Don't bite me!§_ She agreed immediately, and stopped her struggles, much to the pleasure of the crowd around us.

"They did it!"

"Amazing!"

Cheers rang out as we let go of Hestia and stood up, dusting ourselves off.

"Good show!" Lord Mallister congratulated.

"Indeed." A familiar voice agreed.

I turned to the source and saw an unknown, cloaked man. At least, he was unknown until he lifted his hood, revealing...

"Robb!" Jon exclaimed and made to move to his brother, before stopping himself and looking around sheepishly. "Er— I mean, your Grace!"

Robb rolled his eyes and extended an arm, which Jon took.

"Your Grace!" Many more exclamations broke out as the men around us knelt.

"Enough of that!" Robb looked amused. "On your feet, men!"

They complied immediately.

"I have missed you, brother." Robb said, grinning slightly.

"It has been too long." Jon agreed, mirroring his brother.

"A month, I believe?" I cut in, extending my hand. "Glad to see you well, King Robb."

"Lord Harry." Robb nodded. "I've heard all about what you two have done to Harrenhal, but to see it for myself." He glanced out at the still smoking ruins, in the distance. "Incredible."

He shook his head. "But we have other concerns. Follow me."

And then he walked off, the crowds parting before him. We rushed after him, our respective companions following us.

Come to think of it, where was Grey Wind?

As the excitement over seeing Robb again faded, I began to notice some very odd things. He walked differently; tensely, I would say. He seemed to favoring his right leg. My mind raced with ideas and scenarios on the way.

What happened? Where was Grey Wind? Where was Geryon, for that matter?

Why wasn't Robb accompanied by a host of guards?

Was he attacked and forced to flee his guard? Perhaps that was why he gave off the impression of being wounded. But, if he was attacked, why was he so calm about it all?

I shook my head of these thoughts and kept following Robb into a nearby outcropping of rocks, away from prying eyes.

"This should be far enough." Robb said, looking around.

"What's going on?" I asked immediately. "Where's Grey Wind? Your royal guards? My horse, Geryon?"

"Were you attacked?" Jon added in.

Robb looked us both in the eye.

"How do I know I can trust the two of you?" Robb asked.

Jon and I were both taken aback. Now that came out of nowhere.

"What?" Jon almost spat out. "Of course you can trust us! I'm your brother! Harry's our friend."

"Yeah." I threw in. "What he said."

Robb kept staring. "What is it you told me the first time you beat me in a spar, Jon?"

Jon frowned in frustrated confusion. "What? I don't understand how—"

Robb drew his sword. "Answer my question, brother."

Jon took a step back, holding his hands up in an attempt to calm him down. "I apologized for hitting you because I was afraid the Lady Catelyn was watching us."

Robb stared at his cousin for a while before nodding and turning to me.

"How did you react when Theon tried to call you on your bluff of being the strongest swordsman?" He asked.

I stared at him for a few seconds, before saying. "Bluff? I wasn't bluffing, and I even asked him if he wanted to deliver my challenge to Jaime Lannister personally, or if I had to do it, myself."

He nodded and sagged in relief.

"Thank the gods." Robb said, and fell to his knees, his legs unable to support his weight any longer.

"Wh—Robb!" Jon was at his brother's side immediately. "Robb!"

"Not so loud..." Robb winced as he weakly looked around.

I pulled out my wand and conjured a large table.

"Get him on the table." I ordered, and Jon complied, hauling the man onto the table with ease, before backing away, giving me the space I need to work.

"Ghost." Jon simply said, and his direwolf nodded, turning around and standing guard.

Hestia was already doing the same, good girl she was.

"I'll keep anyone away." Jon said and took up another spot to stand guard.

"Thanks." I replied gratefully. "I'll see what's wrong with him."

I followed up by conjuring a tent around us, just to be sure.

"Okay..." I said. "I'm going to take off your cloak, Robb."

Robb weakly nodded in reply. "Just be careful."

I gently untied the strings before slowly taking it off, revealing the damage below. My eyes widened as they roved over his form. His chest armor looked almost pristine, except in two locations, where it looked like it was cleanly punctured through.

I removed his armor. His shirt underneath was soaked through with blood.

I swore under my breath, before doing the same with his legs.

"So that's why you were limping." I said slowly as I waved my wand over his body to confirm the extent of injuries he had. My eyes unfocused for a few seconds as I took in the information.

"Fractured left wrist, severe bruising on your left arm, stab wound on your shoulder and your right side. One stab wound through your leg— through the bone... What the _fuck_ happened to you?"

Robb groaned but I silenced him.

"Don't answer that." I cut him off. "Jon!"

Jon immediately came inside. His eyes landed on Robb's form, and widened in alarm.

"Go get me Erebus, and my sack." I said urgently, before turning to Robb.

I heard Jon's hurried footsteps as I pointed my wand at his left leg. "This is going to hurt. Brace yourself. _Silencio. Brackium Emendo_!"

Blue light flew from my wand, connecting with Robb's left leg. Immediately, the sound of clicks and hissing filled the tent as the bone began to speed through its metabolism process, increasing the rate of cell multiplication a thousand fold.

The sound of Robb crying out in agony would have been heard— had I not cast the Silencing Charm on him. As it was, all that showed his pain was the thrashing of his agonized body and the pained cringes and grimaces that marred his face.

I cursed the fact that my healing magic, even as empowered as it was by this world, was still not fast enough. I remembered Madam Pomphrey casting spells like this with incredible ease, and producing results within a fraction of the time.

Finally, after what felt like hours, but could only have been minutes, it was done.

I checked his leg with the charm, and nodded to myself.

"The bone on your leg is healed." I said, letting out the breath I was holding. "It was completely punctured through, so that took a big chunk of my power to fix. Your wrist should be much easier. Are you ready?"

A grimace, followed by a nod.

"All right." I pointed my wand at his wrist. " _Brackium Emendo_!"

The tent was bathed in blue light, once more, as his wrist snapped and clicked back into place, the cracks disappearing as the bone fused itself back together.

"That one was much easier than the one, before." I repeated, panting slightly. "Not as much bone to regenerate. _Finite Incantatem_."

The sound of Robb's agonized groans and pants filled the makeshift tent.

"Harry!" Jon burst in with my sack and the dark blade sheathed in pure white bone. "I've got what you asked for."

"Okay, good. Good." I waved my wand, and another table appeared next to me. Jon did not need any further orders and simply placed the sack on it, before standing back and watching intently.

I smiled slightly and reached into the sack, before pulling out a small, cylindrical container which held the Murtlap Essence, which I immediately began to rub over his shoulder, his side, and his left leg.

With a hiss, the flesh began to knit itself together at an incredible rate. I applied some more Essence over his bruises and scratches, watching as the color began to return to his skin and his breathing returned to normal.

"All right." I said, running my hand through my wild hair before turning to Jon. "I think he'll be fine."

"Robb." Jon sighed in relief as he approached. "What..." He went quiet.

I turned back to my patient, only to see him in a deep sleep.

"He must have walked all the way here through sheer willpower." Jon said in amazement. " _What happened_?"

"I'm not sure." I frowned down at the fellow teenager, who had been on the brink of death, not a minute past.

My gaze hardened.

"Betrayal?" Jon wondered. He was probably right.

"I don't know, Jon." I shook my head. "He'll tell us when he wakes. For now, will you watch over him, while I sort things out with the army?"

"Always." Jon nodded as I pocketed my wand, grabbed Erebus and placed him on my right side.

Nothing ever went as planned, did it?


	30. The Game is Ever Changing

**oooooooooo  
** **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2016  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 30: The Game Is Ever Changing**

"I've heard our King has arrived, at last. He's won at Oxcross, then?" Lord Mallister said as I burst into his command tent. He was sitting down, enjoying a cup of ale, it seemed like. "Uh... Lord Potter?"

I took a few moments to catch my breath.

"Yes." I answered warily, checking to make sure there were no prying ears. "That's why I'm here."

"King Robb has suffered some extensive injuries." I said and held up a hand to keep Lord Mallister from talking. "He came to us, alone. Likely, his guard has been decimated. I am unsure as to the fate of his direwolf. He must have walked here, on his lonesome— and with his injuries..."

"What sort of injuries?" Lord Mallister queried with a tone of alarm, standing quickly.

"Too numerous to tell. Some were severe enough to threaten his very life." I waved it off. "He's fine, at any rate. I healed the worst of it up, and he's currently sleeping it off. I wanted to question him about what happened, but to wake him now would likely severely damage his chances of recovery."

"I see." Jason nodded in understanding, taking a deep breath to settle his nerves. "I will instruct the army to be on high alert."

I nodded gratefully. That's exactly what I came here for.

"Okay, good. I'll take a few men and post them near the King's recovery tent. Jon, Hestia and Ghost are standing guard around him, at the moment." I informed the man.

"As safe as he can ever be, then." Jason replied, giving me a grim smile.

"Indeed." I returned the smile, though the feeling faded quickly, to be replaced by a sense of urgency. "I'm going back to him, now. Wait for him to wake up."

Lord Mallister only gave me a nod as I exited the tent.

Along the way back to the makeshift tent I'd made for Robb, I enlisted the help of thirty men, including Tyrion and Jaime, who had been sitting around doing nothing at the time.

"What do you think happened to him?" Tyrion asked me curiously on the way.

I shook my head. "No clue. All I know is that all of his men that he was riding with, possibly his direwolf, Grey Wind, are dead, and that he was so severely injured that he would not have made it through the day without my healing him."

"Perhaps an ambush? Left for dead, afterwards?" Jaime suggested as we reached the makeshift tent.

Ghost and Hestia stood on each side of the entrance, looking as if they were going to shred whoever dared to attack to pieces.

"It's possible." I said dubiously. "It could have been more Faceless Men, hired by Cersei."

"Not likely." Tyrion shook his head. "With King's Landing blocked off by pirates, and my dear father captured here, there would be no way she could afford such an expense."

"True." I frowned thoughtfully, feeling like I was missing something. "Wait..."

I shook my head. Damn it! I felt like the answer was right under my nose, and I simply just missed it!

"Just stand guard here, while I try to figure this out." I ordered. "I feel like I'm missing something."

"Yes, I'm sure whoever attempted to kill His Grace will _tremble in fear_ at the sight of a dwarf with a small kitchen knife." Tyrion said sarcastically, waving said knife around.

I stifled an amused grin. "Just follow me. Jaime—"

"Perfect man for the job." Jaime rolled his eyes and stood guard with the rest of the men. "I've been doing it for decades, now."

"Right." I said, not really sure what to say in response to that line, before entering the makeshift tent. "Come, Tyrion."

Jon was already inside, standing next to Robb, who was still sleeping.

"Oh, good." I smiled slightly at the improved sight around me; it looked like Jon washed Robb's wounds. "You cleaned up a bit, thanks."

Then I pulled out my wand and gave it a few sets of complicated waves.

First, a wooden frame was conjured. Then, a soft mattress came into being, resting snugly on the frame.

It wasn't an overly difficult spell— but Transfiguration was never my forte, so...

"All right." I took a deep breath. I wasn't fully recovered from healing Robb, and this wasn't helping— but whatever was needed to maximize his chances of recovery would be used.

" _Wingardium Leviosa_." Robb was lifted a few inches off of the table and was slowly moved to the comfortable bed, before being gently set down. A few more waves of my wand, and he had a pillow, as well as clean sheets.

I gave a final, satisfied nod, before turning to the other two.

"I've alerted Lord Mallister as to what happened." I explained as I leaned back on one of the tables. Using any more heavy magic was not smart— I was already drained enough. Otherwise, I would have simply fashioned a few chairs for all of us. "He's placed the army on high alert."

"Good." Jon nodded, glancing at his brother. "So we have to wait for him to wake up, then?"

"Maybe." I said, running my hand through my hair as Tyrion made his way to the armor pieces we left on one of the tables.

I began to pace. "I feel like I'm missing something. I just can't put my finger on it."

A few seconds passed before Tyrion spoke.

"I think I know." He said calmly. "I might be wrong."

I turned to the dwarf in question. "I'll take anything, at this point."

"Yes, well." Tyrion hefted the pierced shoulder-pad. "This is where he was attacked, yes?"

He checked the side of Robb's chest piece, as well. "Here, too?"

"Aye." Jon confirmed, staring to get impatient with the Lannister. "What of it?"

"Correct me if I'm mistaken..." Tyrion said carefully. "But, did you not enchant the armor to be unbreakable?"

I took a few moments to absorb his comment, before my eyes widened in realization.

"You mean—"

"Whoever did this—" Tyrion pointed at the damage on the armor. "—was not using any run of the mill weapon. This damage could only be done by Valyrian steel, or other magics." He gestured towards Erebus.

"Not so." Jon disagreed with a shake of his. "It could simply be the possibility that Harry's enchantment wore off..."

I nodded. "It's true, I did put the enchantments there... over a month ago."

"It could simply have lost its enchantment." I mused thoughtfully, before moving towards the piece of armor, myself, and hefting it slightly. "I'll check for it."

A few moments later, and my frown turned heavier and heavier.

"Yes. It's still under the enchantment." I said in confusion, before motioning for Tyrion.

"Stab it for me, I just want to be sure." I ordered, placing the armor piece on the ground, and moving back a step. "Is your dagger Valyrian Steel?"

"No." Tyrion replied with a shake of his head.

"Go ahead, then." I nodded for him to continue.

"All right." Tyrion pulled the dagger out and drove it down as hard as he could. The blade clanged against the armor, before bouncing off entirely, sending Tyrion back with it. "Oof!"

I watched the diminutive man scramble back off, the shock of the impact rattling him, judging by his uncontrollably shaking hands. I winced slightly, before directing my attention back at the armor piece, bringing it to eye level for a few moments.

"Not even a scratch.." I mused, eyes narrowing at the implication. "The spell is still active."

"So it was someone with a Valyrian sword!" Jon exclaimed. "But, what did that mean?"

"Perhaps the Faceless Men have acquired Valyrian weaponry?" Tyrion suggested.

"No." I rejected. "They'd be going after me, not Robb."

"A more opportune target?" Tyrion insisted. "You are much harder to kill, after all."

" _There's something else_." Erebus piped up from his sheath. " _Can't you feel it? A taint on this armor._ "

Tyrion shifted uncomfortably at the sound of the weapon speaking, still not used to it.

"A taint?" Jon repeated. "I don't feel anything."

I closed my eyes, and concentrated. "Give me a moment."

I didn't see their nods, as a tendril of Lightning snaked into the chestpiece, feeling for anything that was out of place. After a few seconds of nothing, I felt... something.

"What..." I murmured as I moved my Lightning slowly closer to it. "What is that?"

" _You feel it, too_?" Erebus questioned.

"Yes." I frowned. "Something's really strange, here. I— Gack!"

"Harry!" Jon and Tyrion cried as I hunched forward and fell to my knees.

My energy had latched onto the taint, and it was all I could do to stop from losing my lunch. It 'smelled' old, and foul, powered by endless pain, suffering, and oceans of blood. The sacrificed souls of the men, women and children called out to me in eternal agony. The pain, it was almost unbearable...

"Help us!" They cried. I flinched in response.

I ignored them and pushed on as best as I could. They were already dead and gone, spirits caught in endless torment— there was nothing I could do for them.

Flashes of a great, long bridge city, overlooking the ship-filled sea. An enormity of pillars, steps, bridges, domes and towers flowing into one another; mixing hues of red, yellow, gold and orange until my head felt like it was going to explode.

 _Stronger than this. Fight it._

But, I powered on through it.

A fortress city with pyramids easily dwarfing the rest of the structure. An image of a golden harpy, at the top. Wait, it was more than one city... The landscapes kept changing, but the pyramids remained the same.

 _Concentrate_.

I moved towards the center of it all, the darkness underneath the color.

I looked deep into it.

It looked back at me, and snarled.

I felt the blood drain out of my face— this was primal, powerful magic.

" _No! Get out of my head!_ " I screamed back in my mind. Lightning answered my call, startling the creature and forcing it to flee with a loud shriek.

The next moment, I found myself back in the tent, the faces of Jon and Tyrion staring down at me in worry.

"Harry!" Tyrion said.

"Is that you, in there?" Jon asked quickly.

"Me?" I frowned slightly, cringing slightly as I brought my hand to my forehead. "My head... What happened?"

"I don't know." Jon said, eyes firmly on me— wait, why was Ice out? And, why is he pointing it at me?

I frowned. "Why have you drawn Ice?"

Jon hesitated.

"Something took control of you." Tyrion had no such hesitation.

My blood ran cold as my eyes jumped wildly to him. "What?"

"You were overtaken by... a darkness." Tyrion explained. "Your eyes became as black as the empty night sky. You began to chant..."

"Chant?" I repeated.

Shit. What the hell did I do?

"But Jon immediately stopped you by slamming the blunt edge of his sword against your head." Tyrion said quickly. "Didn't hesitate for a second. I thought he was actually aiming to kill you."

I reached upwards and poked at my forehead, where a bruise was beginning to form.

"That stings!" I said, before I pushed myself back up. "Did you have to hit me so hard?"

"You were drawing your sword." Jon replied, giving a meaningful glance towards Robb as he sheathed Ice back.

My eyes widened in realization. Something took control of me, and tried to kill Robb using my body.

If Jon wasn't there to stop me...

"Erebus?" I looked down at the weapon, encased in his bone white sheath. I frowned. "What happened?"

A long moment passed with no answer.

" _The entity is strong. I am not Emperor of Darkness here, it seems.._." Erebus replied. Was it just me or did he sound... ashamed?

"It's to be expected." I replied. "We're in a different world. It's unfair to retain your titles. So we've just dealt with this world's Emperor of Darkness?"

" _Unsure._ " Erebus replied, regaining his strength with every second. " _It was a strange creature, so much like me— but there was much more. It controlled both Darkness and Light. How?_ "

"You don't mean—" Tyrion said.

"R'hllor?" I finished. " _That_... was him? The Lord of Light? Felt more like a Devil than a God."

 _§Oftentimes, Gods are merely Devils with promises of enlightenment and power beyond imagining.§_ Balthazar weighed in.

"But, in the void..." I said, remembering the first day I came to this world. How long has it been, since then? "In between worlds, we saw him. The red priest. He was scared of us."

" _Perhaps he has grown more powerful, as of late._ " Erebus mused, tone growing harsh. " _I do not know. But, we must stop him. I refuse to take this insult lying down._ "

"I've never seen you like this, Erebus." I said slowly. "Not even after I beat you."

" _Tch._ " Erebus scoffed. " _You beat me using a Lightning coated Patronus. This one beat me with my own powers... Do you understand?_ "

"...I do." I said, after thinking about it for a few seconds. I know I would be greatly upset if someone just showed up and defeated me, using my own power— now, add in the fact that I was the master of my element for a millennia?

Suddenly, Erebus' anger made a lot more sense than a few seconds ago.

"Don't worry. We'll get him— and their religion of crazed fuckers." I promised, before turning to Tyrion and Jon, who were beginning to relax. "I got a few flashes while communing with that power. Images— too many to count, but I remember a few, quite strongly."

"Indeed?" Tyrion questioned, motioning for me to speak.

I frowned, pressing my hand against my forehead as I tried to keep the headache at bay. "A large port city— huge bridge. Pyramid cities with golden harpy statues. Red priest temples at the center of each."

"The Free City of Volantis, and the Ghiscari cities..." Tyrion mused. "Yunkai, Meereen and Astapor— and anything in between all four?"

"I don't know." I said, feeling a little overwhelmed. "I—"

"No!" Robb suddenly cried out and sat up, abruptly, before cringing and falling back down on the soft bed, groaning in pain.

"Robb!" Jon exclaimed and went to his brother's side. I followed suit.

"Jon— is that you?" Robb said, opening his eyes slowly. "Is it really you?"

"Yes." Jon replied, nodding furiously. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." Robb replied, before going into a fit of coughs. "Could use some water, though."

Jon handed him a pitcher of water, which was emptied in less than ten seconds.

"I'll have someone bring food." Tyrion said, before exiting the makeshift tent.

We spent the next few moments in silence.

"What happened?" I finally asked.

Robb gave me this look, a mix between pained and scared, before shaking his head furiously and schooling his features.

Another long moment passed, before Robb started speaking.

"We had slaughtered Lannister's levies at Oxcross, and had made our way back to Riverrun. We spent the next few days celebrating and resupplying. I split the army into different parts to cover the entry points of the Riverlands— Wayfarer's Rest, Stoney Sept, Pinkmaiden." Robb explained slowly. "Their orders were to fortify their positions and remain there until ordered otherwise."

"I left Grey Wind at Riverrun, as he had eaten some particularly bad meat. He'd been sick for days even before I left. I'll have to go back and check on him." Robb mused for a second, before resuming his tale. "I, and a few men, about fifty or so, were making our way to Harrenhal, to assume leadership, and begin the preparations for the march on King's Landing."

"I was also planning on speaking to both... Kings Renly and Stannis Baratheon." Robb continued. "All to ensure peaceful relations with the House my father so dearly respected. That's when it happened."

A dark look marred his face and he shook his head. "They came in the night. Shadow men. We could not hurt them, but the weapons and armor had been enhanced enough that they could not fully penetrate it— at least, not without considerable effort." He gestured towards himself.

"All of my men died." Robb said simply. "They were about to kill me, as well, but... The sun light killed those creatures; they could not withstand it. They screamed, and screamed— but, in the end, they were... thankful. I did not understand."

"That still doesn't explain why you were so paranoid." I mused.

"I was getting to that." Robb sounded agitated as he said. "They had hidden under one of the men's shadow, and in his body. One of our men— a guardsman at Winterfell. Korrig."

Jon's intake of breath was heard. "Is he..."

"Aye." Robb confirmed. "His body split apart... The shadows ate it all up, and attacked us, next. Your horse, Geryon—" I stiffened. "—took the brunt of the attack, before crushing three of the shadowmen. He did not live long, after."

I stared at Robb, uncomprehending for a long moment, before it finally dawned on me.

"Geryon is dead." I said.

"I'm sorry, Harry." Robb replied. "I would have died, right there and then, if it weren't for Geryon."

"I— Give me a moment." I said, and composed myself, trying to ignore the steadily growing lump in my throat. "Keep going."

"Fifty men, against two of these shadowmen. Our weapons could not harm them, but theirs could. It was a slaughter. My men— they all tried to protect me." Robb was getting more and more upset. "Good men. They had proven themselves in the battles we'd fought, only to be defeated by... These creatures!"

"R'hllor's followers created them." I said, motioning towards the damaged chest plate. "Very powerful magic. It almost completely overwhelmed me when I attempted to commune with it in order to ascertain its origin."

"R'hllor?" Robb mouthed, and began to speak. "The Lord of Light from Essos?"

I nodded.

"Why would the Essossi wish to attack the North?" Robb asked in confusion, as well as frustration. "We have not wronged them in any way!"

"I don't know." I replied with a shake of my head.

"Wait." Jon cut in.

"What is it?" Robb looked at his brother.

"You remember, Harry?" Jon was addressing me. "You said that there were two Red Priests on this continent, a fortnight past? Maybe more."

My eyes unfocused for a few seconds, before I nodded in confirmation. "Yes." I nodded a few times, starting to understand. "I see where you're going with this. You think this other priest carried out the attack?"

Jon nodded.

"Spawned those soldiers of shadows..." I mused. "But, why would I have seen the temples in Essos, instead?"

" _I believe I understand why that is._ " Erebus clattered in his sheath, gaining everyone's attention. " _Yes, it makes sense._ "

"What does?" I asked back.

"... _Magic comes from belief. It comes from pouring your entire being, your soul into it._ " Erebus explained slowly.

I absorbed the words for a few moments, making the logical connections in my mind.

"...And belief in their power is gathered by their devout followers at the temples!" I concluded. I frowned. "Or, at least, the majority of it lies there."

" _Correct._ " Erebus confirmed.

"So, what?" I asked with a thoughtful frown. "Destroy the temples? How's that going to stop the followers? I'd have to de-convert them..."

" _Likely unnecessary_." Erebus waved it off. " _As long as you destroy the temples, as well as the priests, you should be fine. The people will forget, quickly enough. Either by fear, or by conversion to another one of this world's religions— like the Old Gods, who seem to be on our side. Or, something useless, like the Seven._ "

I nodded in understanding, before turning to Robb.

Everything seemed clear, now. I knew what I had to do.

"I'll have to go ride to—" I stopped, and swallowed the lump in my throat. Geryon was gone, and he was never coming back, thanks to this Red Priest. "To a port; have them take me to one of the Essossi cities."

"Harry?" Jon said in confusion. "What about—"

I shook my head in irritation. "This takes precedence. You can protect Robb. I'll leave Hestia with you, as she listens to you. You may need her fire."

"I can't! Won't you need her more?" Jon protested vehemently. "You're going right to their domains.."

"No." I replied immediately, beginning to lose my patience with the fellow teen. "You and Hestia will stay with Robb. Protect him with your lives. Without Robb, there will be pandemonium. We'd lose control over the Westerlands immediately. We can't let our efforts go to waste."

"Harry." Robb said calmly from his bed. "Are you sure you're not going because of—"

"Don't say it." I retorted frostily, piercing Robb with my gaze alone and suppressing the explosion of rage that was about to come out. "Don't you _fucking_ say it."

Robb unflinchingly stared right back, proving why he was the King in the North and Trident. Even while grievously wounded and bedridden, he still stared me down.

It was then that I looked down. My hands were shaking. I was out of breath.

Completely emotionally compromised.

What a joke.

I huffed, and looked away, before pinching the bridge of my nose in wariness.

"Fine, fine." I sighed, sagging in exhaustion. "I'll take Hestia with me when I go."

" _And?_ " Jon added, motioning for me to keep going while giving me a look identical to that of his brother.

"I'll rest up and plan our moves with great care and forethought." I replied.

"Good!" Jon looked pleased, as Tyrion came in with a large tray of food. "Let's begin, then. Shall we?"


	31. Onwards

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2016  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 31: Onwards**

I wondered for the tenth time if this was the right course of action as I stared over the endless expanse of blue underneath.

Erebus gave a clatter of irritation, likely sensing my thoughts. I suppressed a smile of amusement.

 _§You all right, Hestia?§_ I gave her a gentle pack on the neck as we glided over the Narrow Sea at high speeds.

It had been a week and a half since Robb had delivered the news of the slaughter of his men on the way to Harrenhal.

My destination? The Free City of Pentos.

 _§Yes, father.§_ Hestia hissed back, sounding completely at ease. _§I can do this all day!§_

I chuckled in both mirth and pride— was this how my parents felt when I began to crawl and make attempts at talking?— and thought back on the events of the past week...

Plans were made with great care for detail; they were then revised, altered, and finally, scrapped altogether before new ideas were shared.

Jon would stay with Robb at all times in order to ensure his continued existence. Robb, who was fully healed by the time I left, was disgruntled but accepted the plan; most likely, he just missed his 'brother'.

I left Jon a stone enchanted with the Protean Charm— see: my horrible attempt at one— only to be used in extreme emergencies.

Hopefully, whoever had come up with the assassination plot would realize it failed within the next few weeks; maybe they wouldn't attack again— Jon was simply there to make sure any more attempts weren't successful, and the stone was there as further assurances of safety.

Tyrion, on the other hand, began his movement towards the Westerlands along with his brother Jaime, while Tywin remained a prisoner in Robb's camp at Harrenhal.

The point of that was to muster a force that would ally itself with the Riverlands and the North— however difficult the task would be.

Even Tyrion himself knew it to be almost a waste of time... Almost.

The Westerlands had chafed much under Tywin Lannister's rule— from high taxes to the destruction of Houses that wronged him. The man ruled his lands with an iron fist, inspiring fear and hatred from the people, instead of love and respect.

Tyrion hoped that, with the help of his brother, they could at least regain the respect of the people, if love wasn't possible. All in all, it was a great undertaking that would either keep the Westerlands out of the fight, or gain the North— and therefore, me— some valuable allies in the years to come.

This way, Robb could focus on sending a few thousand of his men to strengthen the Wall's defenses as well as dealing with both Baratheon brothers and the remaining rogue Lannisters at King's Landing— Dorne was too far south, and unlikely to attack the North or the Riverlands, as they would have to go through the Stormlands and the Reach to even reach us.

"Not that they would necessarily be our enemies." I frowned thoughtfully. "Though, with our new alliances with the Lannisters... It's hard to say."

" _And irrelevant, at any rate_." Erebus added in. " _They've adopted a somewhat isolationist policy similar to the Vale_."

I nodded. "True enough."

 _§They'll be fine.§_ Balthazar addressed my real concerns. _§Jon has become truly powerful— as strong as you were when we came into this world.§_

I smiled. Over the last few months, Jon had been progressing in leaps and bounds when it came to his training in his fire element— at a rate that surprised me greatly. I had no doubt that he would surpass me in raw power, with time.

A long time, I hoped.

Still, I couldn't help but worry...

Erebus scoffed in response. Balthazar's response was a little less scathing.

 _§You can't watch over them forever, Harry.§_ Balthazar hissed quietly. _§You have to let them grow in their own ways.§_

 _§I know.§_ I admitted, a hint of sorrow seeping in as I recalled our first meeting at the courtyard at Winterfell. Felt like years ago. Theon was walking around, acting all arrogant until I humiliated him— now, look at him: single-handedly turning the tide of battles against the bloodthirsty pirates of his homeland.

I shook off these gnawing feelings of dread.

They would all be fine.

They were ready.

"Do you think that this informant has anything of use for us?" I questioned as Hestia swayed left and right out of sheer boredom. I flicked her on the back of her neck with a nice zap for increased power. _§You stop that.§_

 _§Oh, fiiiine.§_ She whined, before righting herself. _§I'm just so bored!§_

 _§We've been up here for about three hours, Hestia.§_ I pinched the bridge of my nose and pointed downwards. _§You notice anything different?§_

Hestia looked down, before looking forward again. _§No.§_

I palmed my face, but bit back the instinctive retort of irritation. _"Don't say anything mean, Potter, she's still a child. She doesn't know better."_

 _§Well, you see how the color of the water is getting lighter and lighter? It was very dark an hour ago, remember?§_ I explained slowly, and gently.

 _§Yeah!§_ She replied back, excitedly. _§You're right, father. The color is getting lighter.§_

I smiled, glad she was understanding. _§That means we're getting closer to shore, the lighter the water gets. I wouldn't be surprised if we began to see land, any minute no— there!§_ I cut myself off and pointed to a small outcropping of rocks jutting out of the sea.

 _§You see?§_

 _§Yay! We're almost there, father!§_ Hestia crowed in delight and increased her speed slightly— didn't even know she had more in her! We were already going at over 200 mph!

 _"To answer your question on the informant."_ Erebus said. _"I do not know this Magister Illyrio Mopatis, but he was well recommended by Lord Mallister._ "

I nodded.

 _"Not that it matters, either way."_ Erebus waved off any concerns. _"We should be able to discern their whereabouts using our own powers."_

"No." I shook my head. "They've acquired methods of blocking our attempts at scrying."

 _"Truly?"_ Erebus questioned curiously.

"Huh— weren't you there when... Oh, that's right, I left you with Hestia for a while, didn't I?" I replied, palming my face for a few seconds, before letting out a deep breath. "I tried to use the 'Point me' spell to find them. Nothing happened."

 _"Perhaps there were too many to choose from?"_ Erebus suggested.

I shook my head again. "If that were the case, the wand would have pointed to every possible direction, before settling down. No. They have already learned how to block themselves from me."

 _§Which means that we will need an informant.§_ Balthazar concluded, to which I gave a short nod of confirmation.

"Precisely." I said and stoically stared at the horizon before us, effectively ending that line of conversation. There was no point to furthering the discussion, as we had already sorted through all of the relevant information at least twice.

Any more and it would simply cause my own resolve to waver.

Not that self examination was a bad thing, per se— it was actually quite important to me— but there was no good in doing it too much. Moderation was key, in this instance.

I pulled out my wand. " _Point me Pentos._ "

My hand turned sharply to the right.

"Now... to see if this Illyrio fellow is there, as well. _Point me Illyrio Mopatis_." My wand went the same direction.

"Ho..." I smiled and patted Hestia on the neck. _§Take a right— no, too much! There!§_

A few minutes later.

"Land ho!" I grinned at the sight of the sandy coast ahead of us. Even from this distance, I could see Pentos, only just slightly. There were a few more hundred miles to go, after all— but at least, we were here.

Essos.

 _§Are you good for another hour, Hestia?§_ I asked gently.

 _§Yes, father.§_ She replied, chirping happily afterwards.

 _§Great— oh, and make sure to have your camouflage up! It wouldn't do for anyone to see us coming in.§_ I instructed further. In response, her scales began to shine slightly, before fading altogether, showing me the lands below.

It was a little disconcerting, to say the least. I shook off the sudden vertigo, and initiated a Disillusionment Charm on myself so that no one saw me, either.

I watched on stoically, making sure to recast the Point Me spell to check if Illyrio had left the city, feeling— rather than seeing— my hand point in the direction of the sprawling port city.

And, what a city!

It had massive, high walls, and was filled with many square brick towers which dwarfed the many, smaller structures around them. Large torches adorned the majority of the top of the buildings, casting the city in orange-red hues, further accentuating a particular building among the set— I looked at it grimly.

A red temple, here as well?

"Erebus." I simply said, and waited patiently as we glided ever closer.

 _"It is definitely them._ " Erebus almost writhed in his sheath. He certainly was eager enough, it seemed. _"I can feel their power clearly."_

"Hm..." I mused as my mind went a mile a minute, before nodding myself. "The plan remains the same. I will go and see this Illyrio fellow, first, before deciding anything else on the matter. Whether I destroy this temple now, or much later will be unknown. But it will be destroyed."

Hestia greatly slowed down once we crossed the city's boundaries so that she could search for the best place to land, as well as scout out the city itself— get a feel for it— before stopping abruptly, almost making me fall off of Hestia's back.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed. _§What's the matter, Hestia?§_

 _§There's something ahead.§_ Hestia hissed, backing away slowly.

All that was ahead of me was the red temple.

 _"A threshold."_ Erebus explained calmly. _"A crude one, from the looks of it. I doubt it can do more than alert them to our presence, once we cross it."_

"I see..." I said, before casting. " _Point me Illyrio Mopatis_."

My arm went to the left— and on we went, until we finally reached our destination. It was a veritable stronghold, with brick walls twelve feet high topped with iron spikes; filled with lush gardens, pillared galleries and a tiled courtyard. I caught sight of a marble pool with some sort of statue in its center, surrounded by cherry trees.

A pretty sight, but otherwise unimportant.

A few noises grabbed my attention.

"Guards, it seems like." I muttered to myself.

 _§And where guards are...§_ Balthazar hissed quietly as a man who could give Robert Baratheon a run for his money in the weight department came out. He was the epitome of what my homeworld considered a bad noble.

"Fatter than a whale..." I stared in disgust as his flaps of fat bounced with his every step. "Is this really the informant...? _Point me Illyrio Mopatis._ " The wand pointed straight at the man, who looked to be chatting up one of his servants; a fair-haired young woman, it seemed like.

I sighed in irritation and thought of my options. If I tried to hover in any closer, the air displacement from Hestia's wings would gain his attention.

 _"Perhaps a more direct approach?_ " Erebus suggested silkily.

"What, just drop in from the sky and introduce myself?" I scoffed.

 _§Actually, that might not be a bad idea...§_ Balthazar backed Erebus up.

"You _can't_ be serious..." I trailed off, before shaking my head. "So, what angle do you think I should go with?"

 _§Unstoppable force of nature with extreme amounts of power?§_ Balthazar suggested.

Hm. Maybe that could work.

 _§Stay up here until I call you, Hestia.§_ I ordered. _§You can rest on one of the higher structures if you get tired.§_

 _§Yes, father.§_ She replied. I smiled to myself and gave her a pat on the neck, before getting to work.

I pulled out my wand, and aimed it at each of the guards, casting Body-Bind Curse after Body-Bind Curse.

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ " The last one of them froze up, and I nodded in satisfaction, before undoing my Disillusionment Charm, and initiating my air raid. The slots in the back of my shirt opened up— a little customization can go a long way, after all— as wings of bluish white Lightning burst out of my back, filling the air with a loud chirp.

I jumped off of Hestia's back, slowly descending as my wings flapped loudly in the air, gaining the fat noble's attention. He looked up at me with a look of shock, which was quickly replaced by awe.

A few moments passed until the man got control of himself back, turning wildly to look at his men, who were frozen in place.

Finally, he turned back to me, with a completely different look in his eyes.

"Now, he's looking at me with fear." I thought to myself as I hovered over the ground for a few seconds before gently landing, my wings winking out of existence as the slots in the back of my shirt closed up.

We stared at each other for a few seconds.

"Illyrio Mopatis?" I broke it first.

"Yes..." He said slowly, as if unsure as to where this conversation is leading.

"I was told you would be a good source of information." I said in amusement, waving my wand and Summoning two of the nearby chairs so that they were next to us.

"Please, sit down." I offered. Illyrio complied without any further prompting, and I followed suit. A few more seconds of silence passed.

"Excuse me, but..." Illyrio started, a little less uneasy as he began to realize his life was in no immediate danger. "Who are you, exactly?"

"Oh!" I made a show of being surprised. "Of course, news travels slow, after all. My name is Harry Potter."

He shifted at the name. "Ah, you recognized it?"

 _"Something's wrong."_ Erebus whispered to me in an urgent tone. " _He's not truly surprised at what he just witnessed, or at your name._ "

Too late.

"Yes." A voice silkily said from behind me, as I felt the dagger at my throat. "Impressive entrance, Harry of the Blackscale. Or, is it Lord Harry of the Twins, now?"

I recognized that voice anywhere.

"Lord Varys." I greeted in amusement, as if I'd known of his presence all along. "Fancy seeing you here. Aren't you supposed to be in King's Landing, fending off Stannis Baratheon, or his brother Renly?"

Varys scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I know a lost cause when I see one— and I'm no Lord, if you recall, Lord Potter."

My mind swirled with possible ways to escape this situation.

I could zap him, but that would get me killed, as his involuntary muscle spasms would tear my throat apart. Trying to grab the knife would likely result in similar outcomes.

I supposed I could simply let him tear my throat open, and I could cauterize the wound as quickly as it was opened— too risky of a plan.

Doable, though. Last resort, then.

"To think that you were part of these... _blood magic cults_." Varys said that last part venomously— if a bit hypocritically, considering he could cloak himself with magic, just like I could. "Of course, I did not believe a single word of that drivel you gave the former King Robert's Court. He was a good fighter, there was no doubt about that— but a foolish man, as well as a foolish King. He did not look into these tales, merely accepting them at face value. I, however... did."

"And, what did you find?" I answered flippantly back.

"House Potter does not exist." Varys said, pushing the knife harder against my neck. "At least, not to my extensive knowledge regarding the Free City of Myr. They certainly were not renowned blacksmiths, even if they did exist."

"Impressive." I smiled and tried to get him to keep talking. "What else have you learned?"

"I suppose the money you possessed was stolen from some wealthy merchant— accidents do happen, at times, and if a few valuable items go missing... Well..." Varys trailed off with a humorless smile.

I didn't know whether to laugh or be offended at his missing the mark completely.

Wait a second... This guy was a Targaryen supporter!

I had a dragon.

I almost whooped in glee as a new plan came together.

This just might work.

"Or perhaps, there was another reason entirely as to why I lied." I said smoothly.

"Indeed?" Varys questioned, extreme doubt in his tone of voice. "And what is this reason?"

"Tell me something." I said. "What did King Robert Baratheon do with what he termed to be _dragonspawn_?"

A few seconds of silence passed, before— "You are no Targaryen."

"You don't seriously expect us to believe these lies, do you?" Illyrio added in further.

"Don't confuse me with that rabble." I said arrogantly. "The Targaryens were not the only Dragonlords of Valyria. I descend from Emperor Aurion, himself, who raised forces from Qohor and attempted to re-establish the Freehold. Of course, history knows what happened to him."

"Never to be seen or heard from again." Magister Illyrio spoke, a strange glint in his eye. "You believe you are his descendant?"

"I know I am." I said without hesitation. "My magic is proof."

"The tricks of shadowbinders, red priests and their ilk." Varys denied, pressing the knife harder against my neck. "I'll admit, your right arm is a true mystery in its own right, even to the likes of I. But, it is still not enough."

"A dragon, then?" I tried. "Would that suffice?"

They were silent, once more.

"Daenarys Targaryen possesses the last three dragons." Illyrio replied stonily. "There are no others."

I suppressed my reaction to that news, and smiled instead, feeling Hestia stealthily land behind us and de-cloak herself, gaining Illyrio's attention. "That's funny, because I'm pretty sure Hestia back there is a dragon."

"By the gods!" Magister Illyrio exclaimed in shock. I felt a shift from behind me— likely, Varys was turning to look. I took my chance and grabbed his dagger with my right hand, spinning on the spot and pinning his arm behind his back in one fluid motion.

"What do you think, Varys the Spider?" I said strongly, twisting his arm slightly to make him grunt in pain. "Is this proof enough for you?"

"Amazing." Illyrio breathed as he got over his shock. "It is beautiful."

"How—" Varys replied through the pain, cringing as Hestia approached him.

 _§Should I eat him, father?§_ She hissed, further frightening the man.

 _§No. He may prove to be of use to us.§_ I denied and let him go.

"You can speak to it?" Illyrio said in awe.

" _Her._ " I corrected as I watched Varys awkwardly make his way to his friend. "I can speak to her."

"How— _ooh_." Varys massaged his right arm slightly. "How did you keep her a secret in King's Landing."

"Oh, that's simple." I smiled. "I didn't have her at King's Landing. The location of her egg was revealed to me before the assassination of the King and Lord Ned."

"Indeed?" Varys narrowed his eyes. "And this information was revealed at King's Landing, without my knowledge?"

He seemed quite skeptical. I supposed, with his invisibility trick, not much could escape his notice.

"Fret not, Spider." I assuaged his concern. "This was not a secret held by the living. King Aegon the First revealed Hestia's location to me, himself."

"Impossible." Illyrio replied. "Aegon died two centuries ago."

"Yes, he did." I agreed. "But part of him remained. It lingered, because of a grave threat approaching which he knew he would not live to face."

Varys and Illyrio looked at each other with unease.

I latched onto that.

"You've felt it, haven't you?" I asked knowingly. "Cold winds are rising north of the Wall, bringing the mythical Others with them. The Red Priests move against this threat, but they are a threat in their own right. I have come here to destroy the foundations of their power."

"The Others?" Illyrio scoffed, but it didn't even seem like his heart was in it. "A folktale from the North, nothing more."

"They are as real as the Red God, and the old gods of the forest." I disagreed. "I have felt their powers growing in the world. Even as I came to this city, I felt the marks of a threshold of magic around the red temple. They are growing stronger— all of them."

"And, what do you plan on doing?" Varys asked pointedly.

"I'm going to kill them all." I said after a moment.

"And take their place?" Varys kept pushing, though he flinched when Hestia lay her emerald eyes on him.

"What?" I spluttered. "Take their place? Why would I do that?"

A long moment passed.

"Just what _is_ your goal?" Varys asked, sounding confused, if that was even possible— and in that moment, I was reminded of Tyrion's own question. Varys couldn't understand my motivations.

"I want to destroy the Others." I said strongly. "I would have left the Red Priests alone had they not attacked us."

"And, after this defeat of the Red Priests and the... Others?" Varys pressed, eyes gleaming.

I opened my mouth to speak, and drew a complete blank. "I guess I haven't thought that far enough. Restore the Twins, I suppose—" Find a way home. Is it even possible? "—Make a family—" Daphne. "— I don't know. I really haven't considered it."

"Perhaps... Visit the ruins of what used to be the Freehold." I said finally. Maybe that holds the key to going home. "What matters, above all, is that I do not plan to rule the lands. I have neither the interest, nor the required patience for it. That is not to say that I am not capable of such a task... I simply don't wish it."

"Would you support a Targaryen Restoration?" Illyrio asked abruptly, much to the ire of his fellow. "What? You clearly do not wish to say it."

Varys rolled his eyes.

"A Targaryen Restoration, huh." I repeated, thinking of a conversation Jon had with his ancestor, Aegon the First. "You aim to place Viserys on the Iron Throne, then?"

"Hardly." Varys said. "Viserys was killed by the Dothraki. The fool saw fit to bring steel into their sacred city, and paid the price for his transgressions."

I wondered what the savage Dothraki did to him for a few moments, before shaking these thoughts off.

"Then his sister, Daenerys?" I asked as I scratched Hestia below her chin, drawing trills of affection. "With her three dragons?"

A nod was my only answer.

"I cannot speak for Robb or the men pledged to him." I said. "But I know that the North and the Riverlands seek to defend their lands against the Others and Red Priests, as well as any invaders of any kind. They did not wish for war— they were forced into it. If Daenerys Targaryen respects this, then the North and Riverlands will accept her rule— or at least, not fight against it like with the current sitter on the throne."

"An abhorrent boy." Varys tutted. "Aerys the Third, they call him behind closed doors. On his first day, he executed fifty men who dared to oppose his claim. It has only worsened with time."

"He will meet his end soon enough." I waved it off. "If not by Stannis, then either by Renly, or the combined might of the North and Riverlands. But, let's get back to our original discussion."

I waved my wand and conjured a third chair for myself, before taking a seat.

"Please, sit." I smiled as Hestia lay her head next to my chair, pinning the two men down with her piercing emerald gaze. "Let's talk further."


	32. Lightning vs Flame and Shadow

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2016  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 32: Lightning vs Flame and Shadow**

 _§You think we can trust them?§_ Balthazar said once we were in the confines of our room.

 _§I wouldn't trust them as far as I could throw them.§_ I replied, throwing a chunk of meat to Hestia, who cooked and swallowed it with one movement.

 _§That said, I trust their self interest, and their loyalty to Targaryens.§_ I allowed after a few moments. §They seem to have a hard on for dragons — no wonder Lord Mallister recommended the Magister.§

 _§You think he's one of theirs?§_ Balthazar asked. _§Wait, no. Never mind. They would have known about Hestia if that were the case.§_

 _"Indeed."_ Erebus sounded amused. _"Try not to strain your mind too much, snake. You need all at your disposal. Every little bit."_

 _§How about you go eat shit, huh?§_ Balthazar almost snarled back. _§Asshole!§_

 _"Tch."_ Erebus clattered. _"Why don't you make me?"_

"Do you guys need a time out?" I said in amusement.

 _§Nooo!§_ Hestia piped in from the lavish balcony overlooking the city of Pentos. _§No time out, father!§_

I grinned in fondness at the words.

 _§Okay. No time out.§_ I promised wryly as I looked around the room.

A humble lodging, Illyrio had called it.

" _Humble, my ass._ " I thought to myself. The overall theme of the room was fire. The walls were painted in red, yellow and orange. The bed covers were made of a fine orange silk embroidered with images of black flames and dragon heads.

According to Balthazar, he picked up the scent of a woman — which could have been anything, but his insistence that whoever had this scent was related to Jon led me to believe that this smell belonged to one of his Targaryen relatives.

So they had been hosted here by this Magister?

Interesting, but not absolutely crucial at this time.

Still, it was important to know, at the very least. Judging by the room's lavishness in general, and my knowledge of the information on the two Targaryens' lives of abject poverty prior to this, I had a feeling that the Magister Illyrio would be looked at fondly by Daenerys.

After all, he was the man who put them up when he had no reason to— when everyone was jeering and mocking them openly as they tried to survive on the streets.

Favors had power.

"It doesn't matter." I shook my head, before addressing my companions. "It's been suggested that we hold off on attacking the Red Temple here."

 _"Yes, we were there."_ Erebus said helpfully.

I stifled an eye roll and kept talking.

"Pros and cons?" I asked. "Any input would be appreciated."

 _"There are no advantages. What these two fools don't realize is that these Red Priests don't play by their rules."_ Erebus explained. _"Between access to magic of their own, as well as being linked to a deity... The more time we give them, the less chances we have at succeeding."_

 _§...Agreed, however much I dislike the stupid Demon sword.§_ Balthazar hissed out.

I nodded. "So we are all in agreement, then. Good."

 _"We're attacking tonight?"_ Erebus asked.

"We're attacking... Now." I said, and got off my feet. "Let it be in the middle of the day. Hestia and I will burn that temple to the ground, just like Aegon did, hundreds of years ago."

 _§That is, if you're up for it, Hestia?§_ I hissed out at the she-dragon, who was currently trying to sleep.

 _§No. I'm sleepy.§_ Well, that completely took the wind out of my sails.

"Oh." I said, pinching the bridge of my nose in irritation. "All right, fine, we'll do it tomorrow."

 _§Okay, father!§_ Hestia chirped, before laying her head down and closing her eyes again.

I waited a few minutes before unsheathing Erebus and placing him beside the balcony's exit, near Hestia's sleeping form.

"Defense mode." I said. "Anyone who comes in with ill intent towards Hestia, and—"

 _"Erase their existence, eat their soul, tell you what they know, yes."_ Erebus cut me off, sounding bored. _"Out for a little jaunt, then?"_

"Hmph!" I grunted. "Yes." I left the room shortly afterwards.

 _§So, what are we doing?§_ Balthazar asked curiously.

 _§We're about to destroy the red temple.§_ I hissed back as I pulled out my wand and placed myself under the Disillusionment Charm.

 _§What!?§_ Balthazar almost burst out. _§Why did we leave Hestia and Erebus behind!? Much as I dislike the sword, he has never disappointed.§_

 _§Erebus fell to their control too easily.§_ I replied.

 _§So did you. What's your point?§_ Balthazar shot back.

 _§Correction, I had linked my magic and consciousness to them, allowing them to briefly overwhelm my senses and take control.§_ I calmly replied. _§Erebus was assimilated as he was trying to resist. Do you understand?§_

A few moments passed.

 _§Oh.§_ Balthazar hissed.

A smirk came unbidden.

 _§Yes. Oh.§_ I repeated his exclamation. _§However much I try to deny it... He's a security risk, right now. There's no telling what could happen if we take him into the heart of the territory of this universe's version of an Emperor of Darkness.§_

 _§And, Hestia?§_ Balthazar asked.

 _§She's too big, at this point. We're trying to be stealthy, here.§_ I reasoned, before shaking my head. _§And, besides, who knows if they can control her fire? This is not a good time for such tests.§_

 _§Then, how will you burn the place down?§_ Balthazar asked.

 _§You'll see.§_ I replied back vaguely as we crossed through the heavily guarded entrance. Being invisible sure had its perks.

 _§Because that's a very helpful explanation.§_ Balthazar groused, but said no further as I wove my way through the streets, using the Point Me spell to find my way to the red temple.

The trip was long— navigating through this maze was pretty difficult, considering it was my first time exploring— but, after about an hour of constant detours, dead ends, and general aggravation, I found myself before R'hllor's great temple.

It was built entirely out of red stone. On top of its great, square tower, there was an iron brazier twenty feet across which contained a massive, crimson flame. More braziers lined the temple's walls, though these were much smaller.

As my gaze shifted downwards towards the entrance, I noted they had hung banners, proudly displaying a sigil of a heart on fire. The sigil was carved on the entrance doors, with an iron brazier on each side. Four men stood, side by side, blocking entry.

I made to step forward, but hesitated.

 _§What is it?§_ Balthazar asked.

I closed my eyes and concentrated.

"Their barrier is a few feet ahead." I muttered to myself, before nodding. _§Balthazar, get ready to douse them with venom. But, before all that, I have to test this barrier out— find out its limits.§_

 _§All right.§_ Balthazar said, and went quiet as I reined my power in as much as I could.

After a few moments of constant suppression, I took a few steps forward past the barrier.

Then, I waited with baited breath.

One, two, three, four, five, six...

So far so good, there was no reaction to my hidden presence.

Thirty seconds passed.

Still nothing. I waited even longer.

I lost track of time, but I figured I had staked this place out for over ten minutes, at this point.

 _§An easily fooled barrier.§_ Balthazar said.

 _§Not so easy.§_ I denied. _§These people— their magic might be growing, but they're new to it. They don't have the skills or the knowledge. I doubt they would have thought to suppress their own powers to cross this barrier.§_

And with good reason; anything from this point on would have to done without magic.

 _§At least, until you no longer have need of hiding.§_ Balthazar said, knowing exactly what I was thinking.

I smiled to myself, before pulling my hood up and making my way to the guards with a bit of a stumble in my step.

" _Halt. Our temple is not to be approached._ " One of the guards said in Valyrian. I didn't understand any of what he said other than the word 'temple'.

I kept fake-stumbling forward as Balthazar translated for me— apparently he'd picked up High Valyrian while I wasn't looking.

" _Did you not hear us, fool?_ " Another harshly grunted, taking a few steps forward and unsheathing his sword, a short little thing which he waved about threateningly. " _Leave, now. Or be sacrificed to our God._ "

 _"Heh. Why not just take him now?"_ Another guy in the back gained his fellow guard's attention. _"We would be doing Pentos a favor by getting rid of yet another worthless drunk from its streets."_

I saw my chance as the guard in front of me turned to reply to his fellow.

" _Not a bad ide—_ " Was as far as he got before I brutally slammed my fist in his throat, feeling more than hearing his esophagus get crushed beneath the force of my strike.

I kept him from falling, long enough for me to grab the short sword in his hand and step over his dying body to engage the remaining guards, who had sprung into action at the sight of their fallen comrade.

I avoided the first man's thrust, stepped into his guard and drove my sword upwards through his chin, the blade piercing his brain and ending his life. The light hadn't even gone out of his eyes as I spun him around and used him as a shield— the feel of a thud indicated that he'd been stabbed just now.

I let go and backed away, watching one of the guards fall with the now-dead body, long sword embedded deep within him. He was attempting to pull it out.

The sound of footsteps behind me was the only warning I had before I met the sword with my right arm, the scales easily withstanding the blow. The next second, venom sprayed out of the hole in my palm, sizzling as it covered the guard from head to toe.

"AHHHHH!" He screamed for all he was worth as he fell to his knees.

I spared him no other glance, instead focusing my attention on the final guard, his bloody longsword ready, staring at me with unreserved fear.

"Do you value your life?" I asked quietly as I slowly walked to him.

He didn't answer.

"I suppose you don't understand this language, huh..." I trailed off in a disappointed tone. "So much for any interrogation attempts."

"RAAAH!" He yelled out, charging at me with his sword. I stifled a sigh of further disappointment, pulled my staff off my back, and clubbed the offending guard in the head, knocking him out cold in one smooth blow, right next to the quickly dissolving body.

I covered my face in a futile attempt to ward off the stench; using the Bubble-Nose Charm was not an option if I wished to remain unknown in this infiltration.

§Not bad.§ Balthazar commented as we watched the man slam into the cobblestone, head lolling around and limbs weakly flailing. §Your swing's gotten a lot better since you started using this thing.§

I didn't answer immediately, instead sheathing my staff, grabbing the man's longsword and decapitating him in one fluid move, before discarding the longsword and pulling out the shortsword embedded in the other guard's chin.

I wiped the blood off, and moved to the door.

§So how do you plan on doing this?§ Balthazar asked, though he could probably deduce the answer without much help.

§Taking a page out of the Faceless Men's book.§ I replied as I went to one of the guards, stripping him of his red robe and putting it on. It was a bit of a tight fit, especially with the staff on, but I would endure. §Kill everyone in this temple. Stealthily.§

With that, I went back to the dead bodies and dragged them off into a nearby alleyway, one by one. The dissolved one was the worst— the smell getting me dangerously close to puking, but I powered on until the entrance to the temple was clear of bodies.

This would buy me a few hours of time before detection— more than enough to get this show on the road.

I entered the temple, enjoying a good whiff of the relatively clean air, and closing the thick doors behind me so as to let a minimal amount of the smell penetrate through.

I was in an entrance hallway, it seemed like. In front of me, I saw another large set of doors— likely a large worship area— and, to my left and right, smaller doors. Side hallways?

I checked the middle one first, and it was as I expected; a large, ostentatious chamber filled with all manner of statues and banners depicting a flaming heart. At the center, there was a large, circular area, filled with the remnants of large bonfires.

§Human remains...§ Balthazar hissed to me as I knelt by the mix of ashes, coal, and darkened bone.

I stared for a few moments, before shaking my head and walking back out into the entrance hallway. Opening one of the side doors led only to empty quarters.

The last door revealed a set of spiral stairs leading down.

§Blood is in the air.§ Balthazar commented after I went down the staircase— this thing went at least four floors down! §Be wary.§

I nodded at the sound advice and crept through the dungeon, stopping to stare through the keyhole of a nondescript door.

I stared for a few moments longer, before gritting my teeth in anger.

Children, dressed in rags and looking almost unbearably thin, huddled together in one big, shivering pile.

I looked away and beat my Lightning back down. I could not blow my cover, not yet.

I took a deep, steadying breath, and walked on, hearing a very faint sound ahead. With time, it became stronger, and stronger; a drumbeat. Security was non-existent; had they seriously placed sentries at the entrance, and nothing else?

It was almost laughable— not that I really felt like laughing, at that moment.

Another few side doors yielded little: I found ceremonial robes, daggers and other implements which could only have been used for religious worship. Another was a simple storage room, filled with sacks of grain and salted meats.

So, I simply followed the noise.

 _§Like a moth to the flame.§_ Balthazar made an offhand comment that completely set me on edge.

 _§Possible trap?§_ I hissed back. _§You think they're onto us?§_

 _§Not sure.§_ Balthazar replied. _§It seems too convenient to have such low security.§_

I nodded in agreement, but didn't reply.

It was pointless to.

We were so close that the beat of the drum was positively thunderous, rattling my body with every beat and showering it with magical power.

Even the music itself carried power.

Unbidden, a memory from my First Year at Hogwarts came to mind.

" _Music, a magic beyond all we do here._ " Dumbledore had said back then, during my first ever feast at Hogwarts.

Could there have been a shred of truth to that?

 _Focus._

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I walked forward once more, following the beat of the drum for a few minutes longer, until I finally reached a large set of red, steel doors, already open.

I peered inside. It was an exact replica of the worship chamber at the entrance with many holes in the ceiling, leading to the surface— likely there to expel the heavy smoke currently being churned out by the massive bonfire in the center.

Around it, five priests stood before it, each with five other guards behind him or her.

So this is where the security had been, the entire time.

No matter.

They were all standing together, bunched up in front of the fire instead of encircling it.

I let go of my self-imposed magical restraints and took a deep breath, charging my lungs with as much Lightning as I could.

" **Lightning Dragon's Roar!** "

A blast of bluish white Lightning burst forth, taking the group of priests as well as their guards completely by surprise and sweeping them away with its pure destructive force.

At the center of the blast, something pushed back, and I fell back a few steps, the flow of power completely cut off, revealing the devastated state of the worship chamber inside.

The bonfire had been completely disrupted, the Lightning completely atomizing the wood and.. other things feeding the flames. No fuel, no fire.

I felt the threshold barrier collapse entirely, but I knew the fight was not over. Whatever had resisted my blast was still here. The room itself became enshrouded in complete darkness as the last wisps of Lightning faded.

I pulled my red robes off, threw away the short sword I had taken from the dead guard— it turned out to be useless, after all— and switched to my weirwood staff.

The darkness raged and writhed in the large worship room in a way that was just like — but how was that possible?

Just like in the void...

I thought only the Others could...

"What the _fuck_ are you?" I finally managed to say.

It answered by exploding outwards in a blast of darkness. I slammed the butt of my staff to the ground, channeling my Lightning through it and shaping a large, half dome which took the brunt of the onslaught, pushing me a few feet back — but I held on.

The wave of power stopped and retreated back into the darkness, giving me a few seconds to regain my bearings.

Long enough for me to hear the voice in the darkness chanting in low, guttural tones— words which no human tongue could speak.

The flames on the torches lining the walls suddenly flew off, converging to a point in front of me.

I had just enough time to pull out my wand and yell out " _Aguamenti!_ " before the fireball was launched.

It slammed into my conjured water with a loud, sibilant hiss, launching harsh waves of steam both sides. I grit my teeth and deadened my nerves so I could fight longer — this will need some burn paste later on.

I pushed harder, overwhelming the entity and dousing the flames, submerging us all in darkness.

But the voice laughed in glee—it had lost the pissing contest on purpose!

Lightning exploded from every pore in my skin, tearing through the shadow's hidden claws and spikes which were aimed at my throat.

"Maybe next time." I grinned savagely as my Lightning swept outwards under the power of my staff, overwhelming the shade and making it scream in unadulterated agony. "Now, be gone!"

With a final furious roar, the shade let go of the magic binding it there, winking out of existence instantly, leaving me alone in the darkness and quiet of the room.

 _§Not what I expected..§_ Balthazar hissed as I sheathed the staff on my back and left the chamber.

 _§Me neither, buddy.§_ I hissed back. _§I never expected them to have progressed so much with little to no knowledge.§_

I cringed as the Lightning finally receded and the burns I had received reared their ugly heads. "Damn!"

I staggered to the side, fumbling through my pockets for the cylinder containing burn paste. With a wave of my wand, the paste fluidly moved to the affected areas, soothing me almost instantly.

"Much better." I sighed before putting the cylinder back in my pocket and igniting my wand with a quick "Lumos!"

I navigated my way back through the halls of the temple in absolute silence, pausing to check all of the rooms I had previously skipped.

"A library." I said, quickly rifling through a few of the books with gradually fading interest. These people didn't know jack shit about magic.

 _§Enough to get you riddled with burns.§_ Balthazar quipped.

 _§THAT was not them. That was some kind of demon possessing them. I know you felt it, as well.§_ I shot back, feeling a headache in the works as I put the books back in and waving my wand at the far end of the room. _"Incendio."_

And so I went from room to room, looting whatever seemed to be worth anything, before setting it on fire, until I got to the room filled with the slave children.

By then, I had accumulated no less than a hundred thousand of the golden coins used in Pentos— the faith of the Red God was as bad as the Seven, in that sense. The priests loved to preach about the Lord, but I bet they loved the riches even more.

I opened the door.

The children's heads all swiveled to me, looking at me in pure, unadulterated fear. What had happened to them?

I shook my head; there was no point in this— it would only lead to heartache.

"Can any of you understand me?" I said slowly; gently.

A few nodded, but most looked confused.

"Okay." I nodded and waved the kids who could understand over to me.

They stared at me for a few seconds, before walking to me with great trepidation. I wouldn't have been surprised if they thought I was taking them as slaves of my own— or worse.

"You're all here?" I looked at the small group in front of me, watching as the last one joined us. "Okay, good. Good. Now... I'm here to rescue you all."

They stared, uncomprehending.

It made me frown.

 _§Likely, they think it's some form of trick.§_ Balthazar hissed to me. _§A test to see who would betray the Red Priests.§_

Ah, I understood. They probably thought that, if they followed me, they would be severely punished.

Ugh.

"I'm not joking." I said, lifting my hand and charging it full of Lightning, before clenching my fist, the ensuing shock wave rattling everyone and knocking some of the weaker kids over.

That got their attention.

"Listen up!" I said, and this time, the kids were completely alert. "I've killed the Red Priests here. I'm going to take you to safety, all right?"

"Really?" A little girl said from the side. She had long, curly black hair, and blue eyes.

"Yes." I said patiently, seeing part of the group tear up. "No! None of that! You can cry when we're out of here!"

To my surprise, they stopped and sniffed it all back in.

I smiled. "You have to be strong, all right? Tell all the other kids— you can speak the other language, right?"

I got nods of confirmation.

"Good." I said. "Go on, tell them."

A few minutes later, I guided the children out of the Red Temple. The moon shone brightly in the clear, night sky. The children stared at it in pure, unadulterated wonder.

The priests didn't even let the children go outside?

I ran my hand through my hair and let out a deep breath to calm myself.

Then, I led them all through the streets of Pentos to Illyrio's manse, waiting patiently at the man's gates. Eventually, he appeared.

"What is the meaning of this?" Illyrio demanded as he blubbered outside of his fortress, flanked by no less than ten guards.

"I just rescued these children. I want them to stay at your manse for a while." I explained, holding my hand up to forestall whatever he was about to say. "Of course, I will pay for their lodgings."

Illyrio sighed in resignation, and motioned for his guards to stand aside.

"Come, follow me." I guided them all to the gardens, instructing one of the servants to get a feast ready for the children, before getting them settled. The process took about half an hour, but soon, the children were voraciously devouring every piece of food they could get their hands on.

I smiled and turned to leave.

"Mr. Harry! Are you leaving?" One of the kids called out, and they all stopped eating, looking at me with a mix of sadness and fear.

So many puppy dog eyes. Ugh! Stop it!

"Don't worry." I smiled in what I thought was a reassuring manner. "I'm just going to destroy the Temple. Just watch the sky— you'll love it!"

With that, I launched my Air Raid, and took off into the sky, my bluish white wings easily carrying me in the direction of the Red Temple. A few minutes later, I was at the entrance, once more.

Time to finish up, here.

" _Confringo! Confringo! Confringo! Confringo!_ " I cast over, and over, and over as the Red Temple erupted in massive, orange explosions which rattled the entire district.

"Now... _Incendio Maxima!_ " A torrent of red flame poured into the convenient holes in the building created by my previous Blasting Curses, clinging onto the many banners, benches and various wooden furniture within the Temple.

Now, for my final spell.

The coup de grâce!

" _Morsmordre!_ " I incanted and shot a blue light into the sky, grinning as I watched the small orb of light exploded into a snarling blue dragon which looked almost exactly like Hestia, barring size.

That particular spell had been a nightmare to get right. The first time I had tried it, I managed to scare Robb's entire army, with good reason; the original incantation put the Dark Mark in the sky— a colossal green skull with a serpent coming out of its mouth.

It took days of tinkering, experimenting, and raging until I got it right.

"Impressive." Varys' voice said from behind me. "Quite the performance, Lord Potter."

I turned to see the man— well, not really a man anymore, was he?— staring up at the lightshow with interest.

"Oh, how long have you following me? Since I got those kids to Illyrio's manse?" I asked curiously.

Varys' eyes went down to me, his eyebrow raised at the question.

"What makes you think I haven't been following you the entire time?" He shot back.

...

"...Touché."


	33. Travel

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2017  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 33: Travel**

"Perhaps I have misjudged you." Varys said appraisingly as we walked through the many hallways in Illyrio's manse.

It had been a few hours since I had destroyed the Red Temple and launched my modified Dark Mark─ let's call it a Dragon Mark─ into the sky for all to see.

The children had all been situated and properly fed, since then. I had taken the time to sit with them, and reassure them that, yes, the nightmare was over, and yes, they were free to go wherever they wished.

I also told them that, if they wanted, they could live at the Twins, in Westeros, which, last I heard when I was in Westeros, was being fixed up by my Northmen and Rivermen allies.

It paid to have allies, I supposed.

Some of the older kids chose to go their own way, but the young ones had decided to take me up on that offer.

"In what way?" I replied, staring at my right thumb and trying to bend it with some difficulty. It felt quite stiff.

Meh.

"I did not expect you to care for the sacrificial children— seeing as you're a warlock, yourself." I frowned at his implication, not really understanding. "But you saved them."

"Why wouldn't I..." I started, before realization hit me.

"You think my power is derived from sacrifices?" I almost laughed at his befuddled expression.

"You're saying ─"

"Yes." I said calmly, raising a hand and channeling my power into it, filling the halls with bluish white light. "My powers exist outside of the boundaries of the lesser mages. Therefore, I do not require something so tedious as blood sacrifices to give me strength. My strength is my own; it has _always_ been my own."

"I see." Varys said a few moments later, before shaking his head. "It is difficult to absorb."

I said nothing in return, merely reining my power back in.

"As for the children, themselves... They shall remain here, for now." Varys moved on. "Westeros is a dangerous place for children at the moment."

"Understandable." I nodded. "I trust my payment was sufficient?"

"Oh, yes." Varys had a little smile as he replied.

Amused, was he?

Well, I _did_ pay a fair bit of money to keep these kids safe, but neither of the men knew how much money I actually had, so the joke was on them.

A few more moments passed in silence.

"You aim to find the other temples, then?" Varys prodded.

"Of that, there is no doubt." I replied, finally arriving at the room Illyrio had me stay in.

"Also of no doubt." Varys said, following me. "You would raze them to the ground.."

"Indeed." I said and entered the room.

Daenerys Targaryen's room. Her scent still permeated the room― a soft, gentle thing. Wait... This wasn't her scent.

 _§_ _Catching on, are we?_ _§_ Balthazar piped up with a hiss.

 _§What do you mean?§_ I hissed back, ignoring the slightly uneasy look Varys was giving me. The fact that he even showed this much emotion meant he was greatly disturbed.

Oh well. Sucks to be him, I guess.

" _What he means, boy_ ― _"_ I stiffened at the angry tone Erebus employed as the black falchion pulsed with power. "― _Is that you're feeling the woman's magical signature. In actuality, there is no real smell remaining except in the bed, itself, and even then, it's quite faint."_

"I see..." I said slowly, getting a feel for this power by actively linking my own with it. "Such a gentle signature. Is this truly the signature of a woman with three dragons and a people under her control?"

" _It's likely to have changed, somewhat._ " Erebus replied from his spot at the balcony, where Hestia was still snoozing. I didn't even realize she was that tired.

" _But, in essence, that will likely be the core of her magical signature._ " Erebus added in at the end. " _Did you enjoy your trip?"_

Trap question!

"Went off without a hitch." I smiled as I sat on the bed and looked to Varys. "Thank you for accompanying me back to my room, Varys."

The bald man caught the hint quick and left with a nod.

"So..." I started slowly, wondering how this conversation was going to play out. I'd never actually snubbed my Devil Arm, before, so I had no idea how he would react to my leaving him behind.

" _I believe it is in our best interest to part ways.._ _."_ Erebus calmly said from his spot.

"Eh?" I replied in surprise, I had been expecting irritation, or anger. Not this. "Part ways?"

" _Indeed."_ Erebus replied. " _At least, for a whil_ _e."_

"Any specific reason?" I asked. "What's that even going to achieve?"

" _I have allowed my power to stagnate, after it being reduced on our trip to this realm."_ Erebus replied. " _I cannot allow that to continue. I must increase my powers, once more."_

"So they can have an even stronger version of you to control?" I argued.

Erebus didn't answer.

"I don't think increasing your power will accomplish anything." I replied. "You possess incredible power, already. You need to achieve a resistance."

" _Of course."_ Erebus' tone was amused. " _Have some spare dark priests here to make attempts at enslaving me_ _so I can build this resistance you speak of_ _?"_

I sighed. He had a point there.

"You must have a better solution than separation, Erebus." I said slowly. "We can't just split up, not now."

" _What would you have me do, then?_ " Erebus asked. " _I am less than useless in a fight with the priests.."_

"We don't know that." I replied with vehemence.

" _Don't we?"_ He answered back, the epitome of calm.

"We don't." I insisted. "The only reason this happened was because we were unprepared for it. Perhaps it is time we attempt to erect mental barriers. Are you familiar with the art of Occlumency?"

" _Stories from my progeny, really."_ Erebus replied. " _Their aura powers were rendered ineffective when wizards developed the defense aspect of their mind arts."_

"Lucky you, Dumbledore taught me the basics of Occlumency." I smiled. "I'd never needed it before, as channelling Lightning through my brain removed any need for mental defenses; rather, it was a mental defense in its own right."

A long moment passed.

"... _Go on._ "

I smiled, and sat by him and the slowly waking Hestia.

"Well, the first thing you have to do is..."

ooooooooo

 _§_ _Look! I found lunch!_ _§_ I heard something hiss to the side.

Frowning, I turned my head to see a few cobras, slithering along the sandy dunes east of Pentos. I'd decided to walk my way east, following along the Valyrian road to the ruins of Ghoyan Drohe.

I would reach that place any day now.

 _§_ _Let's jump him before he realizes we're there._ _§_ One cobra hissed to the other.

Why was I taking the scenic route, you might ask?

It was a necessary sacrifice to ensure Erebus stayed with me. I had actually seriously considered his proposal of leaving and gaining strength before coming back, before discarding it entirely.

Sure, he could have become stronger, but where would that have led him?

I nodded to myself.

Yes, what he needed was further mental strength. I supposed millennia of being the strongest, and never needing to resist anything's power had caused his mental defenses to shrivel into almost nothingness.

Hence, the work in prog─ hold that thought.

I took a step to the side, watching the snake fly right past me, before grabbing its tail and, with a nice spin, threw it into the distance.

 _§_ _I could hear every word, you know._ _§_ I hissed to the remaining snake in amusement.

 _§You can speak our language?_ _§_ It replied in surprise.

 _§Obviously._ _§_ Balthazar cut in the conversation, sounding amused. _§_ _Idiot._ _§_

 _§_ _Who are you? You sound like a nasty viper._ _§_ The cobra hissed.

Snake racism? All right, then.

 _§_ _So what if I am? Better a viper than some stick thin race made of pure shit like the cobras._ _§_ Balthazar fired back.

I rolled my eyes, pulled out my wand and banished the second cobra before it could say anything more.

 _§_ _A dick measuring contest with a bunch of wild snakes?_ _§_ I hissed, trying not to smile.

 _§Both were women._ _§_ Balthazar replied. _§_ _Not that it matters, they're probably dead, now._ _§_

 _§_ _Eh? I didn't throw them that far, or even that hard for that matt_ ─ _Oh... Well, shit._ _§_ I hissed as I saw a flock of crows tear the two unfortunate snakes apart. _§_ _My bad._ _§_

 _§_ _Nature sucks._ _§_ Balthazar hissed back.

" _Their own mistake for even thinking they could attack us without any retaliation."_ Erebus piped up from his sheath.

"Ah, the prodigal son returns." I smiled. "How was meditation?"

" _It was... Satisfactory."_ Erebus replied. " _My mental shields are progressing_ _at the speed I expected them to."_

"Ah." I said, recognizing the tone of voice. "A few steps shy of a snail's pace, then?"

" _Just about."_ Erebus confirmed, wry amusement mixed with frustration seeping into his tone.

"Well, time is what we have, right now." I smiled, gesturing to the road ahead of us. "We've been on this road for a good while, now." I said. "I think, a few more days and we'll reach the ruins of that city. Can't quite remember the exact name of it, off the top of my head."

 _§Ghoyan Drohe.§_ Hestia supplied helpfully from the right, her footfalls barely making any sound on the solid stone road.

 _§_ _Hestia._ _§_ I smiled in her general direction. _§_ _Still camouflaged?_ _§_

 _§_ _Yes._ _§_ She replied easily. _§_ _If sword-devil is practicing, so should I._ _§_

'Sword devil.' I mouthed in amusement.

" _Tch._ " Erebus sounded only slightly irritated. " _At least she's dedicating her time to getting better. Unlike a certain snake we all know and hate."_

 _§_ _Shut the fuck up._ _§_ Balthazar retorted. _§_ _I've been working on stuff, too, y'know._ _§_

" _Like what?"_ Erebus challenged. " _Show me this 'stuff' of yours."_

A few moments passed with no reply.

" _Just as I thought."_ Erebus replied triumphantly. " _I..."_

He stopped as I felt a shifting sensation all over my upper body, followed by the tell-tale clicking sound of Balthazar's armor coming together... Except, it was forming over my chest!

 _§Done._ _§_ Balthazar said, his tone suggesting a deep concentration.

I smoothly took my shirt off, and stared at Balthazar's handiwork.

" _This.. is impressive._ " Erebus said with grudging respect.

"Amazing." I kept staring.

The hexagonal, nigh indestructible black scales had spread outwards, covering my torso and left shoulder. It looked like a badass version of the Blackfish's own armor. Where his was bulky and looked downright unwieldy, mine was sleek and form fitting, looking like a second skin.

Which it was.

 _§_ _How long can you hold this?_ _§_ I hissed, still feeling awed as the scales receded.

 _§Five minutes._ _§_ Balthazar replied.

I frowned.

 _§_ _Only that?_ _§_ I said, sounding disappointed.

 _§Give me a break._ _§_ Balthazar sounded annoyed. _§_ _It's not easy maintaining a surface strong enough to take steel with no scratches._ _§_

 _§_ _Fair enough._ _§_ I allowed, with a smile. _§_ _Well, time to make it easy, then!_ _§_

 _§_ _What do you..._ _§_

 _§_ _Keep the armor on for as long as you can, and then rest up._ _§_ I ordered. _§_ _As soon as you're rested, put the armor back on. Rinse, repeat._ _§_

 _§_ _You've_ got _to be kidding me._ _§_ Balthazar whined.

 _§_ _No one said training was easy._ _§_ I hissed unapologetically, and put my shirt back on. _§_ _Now, get to it!_ _§_

I heard the sound of scales clicking together as Balthazar's new scale armor formed over my body once more. I smiled, and put my shirt back on.

" _And you?_ " Erebus piped back in. " _What do you plan on doing?_ "

"I'm not really sure." I replied sheepishly as I stared down at the Valyrian stone beneath me.

It was truly a wonder to behold. Supposedly, this road was created by the Old Valyrians, with the help of dragonfire. They fused the stone and created roads that linked all of the cities together and modernized trade.

The fact they're still standing to this day, after four hundred years of wear and tear and looking like they're still brand new, was a testament to the power of the magic of Old Valyrians.

I shook my head, and focused back on myself.

My control over Lightning, while not absolute, was quite up there. I had already trained the shape manipulation aspect of my magic back on Earth, and that control had carried over even with the loss of a good chunk of my power.

In fact, I would say that my control increased, since there's a smaller pool of power to work with.

The next logical step: increase my energy reserves, which I already do. Every day, before I slept, I would expend my reserves through the ground. As you all may or may not have known, electricity can bleed into the ground quite easily.

So, I would link up with the ground and expend most of my reserves, before falling asleep. Of course, such a method carried risk, but I always made sure to keep at least a quarter of my reserves up.

You know, just in case someone from the Faceless Men or shadow demons showed up. So far, nothing has happened, but I didn't trust my luck to hold.

Back to the subject at hand.

Control and energy levels have been covered. What's left?

My skill with a sword? I regularly went through the forms Jon and Ser Rodrik had shown me many months ago, back when we were staying in Winterfell. Not to mention, I was already a veteran of four different battles, so far.

The only thing that was left was my staff. I hadn't really used it all that much, aside from the obvious ways it could have been used.

I knew it amplified my Dragonslayer magic, somewhat. Aside from that, I supposed I'd been using it as a glorified club. But it was a staff. There were certain forms to follow.

I sighed, wishing I'd learned some form of martial arts back home.

"You wouldn't happen to know any fighting styles involving staves, would you?" I asked hopefully.

" _Not really._ " Erebus replied. _"I knew a few demons which had them, but I had never cared to learn it, myself. I was never exactly a_ _full on physical type. I daresay, fighting with you is the closest thing I've done to fighting, and even then, it's you swinging the sword._ _._ "

I nodded, remembering Erebus' wraith-like form.

"Fair enough." I said and tried to pull up everything I knew about staves as I pulled my staff from its makeshift sheath on my back.

I stared at it for a few seconds.

"This can't be too hard." I said to no one in particular. "I mean, fighting styles were created by people. I should be able to create my own."

" _True enough._ " Erebus agreed.

I smiled. It would be a worthwhile challenge.

"All right, the top of the staff is almost spherical, while the bottom is sharp like a spike." I said to myself, spinning the staff and making bashing and stabbing moves with it as I walked along the stone path.

"Bludgeoning and stabbing... And I can increase the effect by channeling my Lightning into it. As for the wood's properties itself. Perhaps weirwood can fight off the Others." I mused, remembering the aura I felt at Winterfell's godswood. Whether it was lethal to the Others or not, I didn't know.

But it would definitely come in handy. I was sure of it.

The potential of this weapon was high. With my Dragonslayer magic, its spherical end can be turned into a hammer, and its spiky end could be turned into a spear.

I began to move through a clumsy kata, correcting my stances, thrusts and swings as best as I could.

 _§_ _Go father!_ _§_ Hestia cheered, and I faltered from the sheer amusement of it.

 _§Heh. Thanks, kid._ _§_ I grinned and went back to training.

And so the days passed...

I would wake up, eat, train for a bit, walk for five to six hours while Erebus, Balthazar, and Hestia trained in their respective abilities. When we were all done, I would drain most of my power, before finding a place to set up camp and then finally sleeping.

As the days passed, I began to notice the earth below my feet turn greener and greener. I began to spot more animals than before.

It was nice to see something aside from scorpions, beetles and snakes for a change. I'd been in that desert-like environment for a while.

At any rate... More greenery meant there soil's water content had increased, meaning... I was most likely close to the river Rhoyne.

And, if I was close to the Rhoyne, then I was also close to my next destination.

Ghoyan Drohe.

I ended up getting a little excited that particular day, and sprinted for over four hours.

I paid for that mistake in the next few days. The muscle cramps were something else; I hadn't felt like that since the olden days of "Harry Hunting". But on the third day of recovery, I caught sight of the ruined city, thought it was too far for me to make out any details.

I sighed as I leaned closer to the campfire I set up that night.

Though it was hot during the day, the nights were frighteningly cold. There was a chill in the air, the cloying stench of the Others' power slowly sinking its claws into the world itself, choking the life out of it.

"Harry Hunting, huh..." I muttered to myself in the dead of night, with nothing but the howling winds and the crackling of the flames to keep me company.

Balthazar, Erebus and Hestia were all sound asleep; their respective trainings was taking quite the toll on them.

As for me, I simply couldn't sleep. My mind wandered to thoughts of home.

I had left them quite abruptly, hadn't I? I wondered how they were doing.

Voldemort was still alive. Most likely, at this point, I'd have been assumed dead.

Who would take up the fight against them? The Order? Sirius had gotten alot stronger, from what I saw in Temen Ni Gru. Dumbledore was also in a league of his own.

But, could they really do it?

So many other questions warred to grab my attention. What about the Weasleys? What about Hermione? What about...

I clenched my fist, trying and failing to banish those thoughts away.

Daphne.

I had left her too, hadn't I?

The last thing I remember of her was her slapping me, and then kissing me right afterwards. It was when I'd told her I was going to Temen Ni Gru.

I never came back.

How was she feeling right now?

Did she think I was dead, too?

I stared up at the night sky, hoping to make sense of it all.

No answer.

Tch. Figures.

I sat up, and scooted closer to the fire.

" _Still awake, then?_ " Erebus' voice came.

"Ah.. Yes." I replied, not taking my eyes off of the flickering flames. "You, as well?"

" _I don't really sleep."_ Erebus explained. " _It's more of a meditative process."_

"Is it really?" I mused, glancing over to the sword lying at my side, before looking right back at the flames. "I was just thinking."

" _Don't hurt yourself."_ Erebus immediately quipped.

Someone's been letting Balthazar rub off on them... Bet he'd get pissed if I said that, though. Heh.

"Very funny." I said in a monotone. "But, really, I was just thinking of home. What we've left behind."

" _And?"_ Erebus prompted.

"I don't know." I said. "What if we can never go back? Even if there is a source of magic powerful enough to break through the dimensional barrier set in place, how will any of us know how to direct the energy and make it obey our whims?"

" _The Dark Rift-"_ Was all Erebus said before I interrupted him.

"The Dark Rift is a technique used to tear a pathway into the Nevernever. It was neither designed nor intended to be used for a situation like this." I said. "Nevernever might have been separated from the real world, but it wasn't always so, was it? The two worlds used to be one."

" _You've figured that out?_ " Erebus questioned with a hint of surprise.

"It was hard not to." I said. "Nevernever was basically echoes of the real world, though changed dramatically due to the whims of whoever ruled that particular bit of it... Just look at Temen Ni Gru's Nevernever version. Its worst qualities were enhanced even further."

" _It is a good supposition."_ Erebus praised as I looked up at the stars again. " _Still. I'm sure we can figure out the workings of the dimensional barrier, given time."_

I said nothing in return.

" _One thing is for sure, though."_ Erebus added, grabbing my attention once more. " _Whatever is blocking us from leaving is linked to the power of the Others. When I was being controlled by the Red Priests, I felt it. It was like we were chained down."_

"... And you waited this long to tell me, why exactly?" I questioned a little frostily.

" _Because I've only been recovering my memories only recently._ " Erebus replied, sounding a little irritated at my reaction.

I sighed.

"The Occlumency training?" I questioned.

" _Yes."_ Erebus simply said. " _It has yielded results. As to who exactly is chaining us down, it was neither the Others, nor the Red Priests. It was something else entirely._ _Though, whoever did this chained us to the Others. I doubt they even notice the link between us and them._ _"_

That gave me pause.

"Another player, in the shadows?" I asked, a little wariness seeping into my tone. "You think they're pulling our strings to kill the Others for them? Even now?"

" _Pulling our strin- ah, yes, like a marionette?"_ Erebus mused. " _No. I doubt it. We've not felt anything on ourselves."_

"Unless it's so pervasive that we don't even notice it, anymore?" I countered.

" _Unlikely._ " Erebus denied. " _Your power possesses purifying properties."_

"Eh?" I questioned. "What do you mean by 'purifying'? I thought all my Lightning was good for was destruction."

" _While it's true that Lightning is capable of massive amounts of devastation, it remains a magic possessing holy properties. Nowhere near as powerful as Holy Light magic, but the properties are there, regardless."_ Erebus explained.

"Interesting." I said, interested. "How do I bring it out?"

" _You already do."_ Erebus replied. " _That's what I was trying to explain to you. Your Lightning purifies your body every time you immerse yourself in its power. It is impossible that we're being overtly controlled."_

I nodded, absorbing the logic behind it.

"So we were pulled in here on purpose, but whoever did the job isn't directly controlling us?"

" _Exactly."_

Then came the next logical question.

"You think we're being controlled indirectly, then?" I said uncomfortably.

" _The possibility hasn't escaped my notice."_ Erebus said quietly. " _What are the odds of us deciding to go to Winterfell, ally ourselves with a Great House, join their side and turn the war against the Lannisters into a slaughter?"_

My blood ran cold at the implication.

"You're saying something orchestrated all of this?" I asked, running my tongue over suddenly dry lips. "Who could possibly.. How? It sounds too farfetched, Erebus."

" _Nevertheless, it is what my instinct tells me."_ Erebus said.

"It doesn't make any sense." I said. "A plan of this scale.. Me befriending the Starks, allying the North, Riverlands and Westerlands together, coming to meet the Targaryen girl to ally with her to fight the.. Others."

" _You understand, then?"_ Erebus sounded both pleased and worried.

"What the _fuck_ are we dealing with?"

My only answer was the howling wind and the crackling flames.

The next day, I trained twice as hard.


	34. Essos is a Dump

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2017  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 34: Essos is a Dump**

After another day of walking, I was finally at Ghoyan Drohe.

But, after searching through the city for a few dozen minutes, I came to the totally astounding conclusion that it was a total dump.

Varys and Illyrio had understated the sheer damage this place had taken. Hell, even understatement was an understatement when it comes to this place.

The city was a ruin, the kind I would have seen in tourist sites, back on Earth.

Most of the buildings had been razed to the ground, and what few buildings remained were so damaged and in a state of such disrepair that it wouldn't surprise me if a particularly strong breeze knocked them over.

And, to think, all of this devastation occured because the Rhoynar refused to bow to the Valyrian Freehold's demands.

Tch. Valyrians. I was starting to dislike this people's way of doing things.

Wherever they went, the Dragonlords of Old Valyria only seemed to bring devastation and misery. Whoever had survived this onslaught was likely taken by the Valyrians and made to work in their mines for the rest of his or her life.

It was a chilling thought, and not one I wanted to dwell on for long.

" _But you do the same, no?"_ Erebus countered shrewdly. " _Harrenhal. The Red Temple_ _in Pentos_ _."_

"That's different." I said, wincing. It sounded hollow to my ears.

" _Is it?"_ Erebus said in amusement. " _The arrogance and ignorance of humans..."_

 _ _§__ _ _He doesn't take slaves, dumbass.__ _ _Stop trying to make him sound like he's the root of all evil.__ _ _§__ Balthazar hissed suddenly, making Erebus bristle in ange _r_ _._ _ _§__ _ _More importantly, Harry, I think I smell someone up ahead. Several people, actually.__ _ _§__

 _ _§__ _ _How far up ahead?__ _ _§_ I replied, tensing slightly. _§__ _ _Should I be ready for a fight?__ _ _§__

 _ _§__ _ _Hmm...__ _ _§__ Balthazar considered by question, and I felt the hole in my palm suck in the air. __§__ _ _Half a mile ahead, I would say.__ _ _§__

I relaxed at his words and took a breath.

 _ _§__ _ _All right.__ _ _Sounds good.__ _ _§__ I said, before looking up in Hestia's general direction- she was still cloaked, had been for days now. __§__ _ _Hestia! Come here for a second.__ __I have something for you to do...__ _ _§__

A few minutes later, Hestia came back.

 _ _§__ _ _I spied on them like you said, Father!__ _ _There's a woman sitting down the middle of the road up ahead.__ _ _§__ Hestia hissed at me in low tones, like she was being sneaky. It brought an smile to my lips _._ _ _§__ _ _Several men are sitting around nearby buildings, just watching and waiting__ _ _for something, I think__ _ _.__ _ _§__

 _"I see."_ I smiled, and reached out to pat her on her head... wherever it was. The invisible she-dragon helped me out by placing her head against my hand. __§__ _ _Good girl.__ _ _§__

So, they were doing the old "woman in distress distraction while they ambush" trick?

 _ _§__ _ _What're you going to do?__ _ _§__ Balthazar questioned.

 _ _§__ _ _Spring the trap, of course.__ _ _§__ I said flippantly. __§__ _ _After all that time in the sort-of-desert, I could use some amusement__ _ _for a refreshing change__ _ _.__ _ _§__

 _ _§__ _ _Seriously?__ _ _§__ Balthazar sounded annoyed. __§__ _ _Why do I even bother with you? You seem dead set on getting yourself killed.__ _ _§__

Heh. Get it? Dead set on dying?

Ugh. Nevermind. My humor is lost on you sheep.

 _ _§__ _ _Oh, c'mon. It's a bunch of bandits using the oldest trick in the book.__ _ _§__ I countered dismissively _._ _ _§__ _ _And besides, I've got Hestia here-__ _ _§__ I tickled her snout, making her sneeze all over the ground. __§-__ _ _to watch my back. And you, and Erebus.__ _ _What could possibly happen?__ _ _§__

I was trying my luck by saying that last part.

 _ _§__ _ _Fair enough.__ _ _§__ Balthazar sighed. __§__ _ _One of these days, you're going to get yourself killed, you know that?__ _ _§__

 _ _§__ _ _True enough. But, as they say__ _ _in these lands__ _ _... All men must die.__ _ _§__ I retorted with a shit eating grin.

 _ _§__ _ _Just shut the fuck up, Harry.__ _ _§__ Balthazar said, clearly exasperated at my attitude.

I merely smiled and made my way to the trap at a leisurely pace, taking the time to stare at the destroyed buildings all around me.

If I were still at Earth, there would be a bunch of tourists standing around the ruins, taking pictures to show to their friends.

A strange practice, that; telling everyone else what you were doing- worse, showing it off. A fond smile came to my face as I remembered the time I had browsed an article which talked about this very thing.

USI Syndrome, the internet experts called it.

What's USI Syndrome, you may ask?

Well, my good man, USI Syndrome is short for Unwarranted Self Importance Syndrome, which most of the people on the internet were afflicted with. They all thought, because a few dozen people liked their pictures, that they had suddenly become a big deal, when in fact, they were all sacks of-

A whimper up ahead distracted me from my current thoughts.

Ah, there she was.

I stared at the crouching woman in the distance. Her back was to me, showing me her shaking shoulders. The woman wore rags which passed for clothes. Every inch of her skin was covered in some form of dirt, or worse.

The whimpers slightly increased in their intensity, and the loud sniffles followed shortly afterwards. Likely, she thought I couldn't hear her, and raised her voice for a better reel in.

Hot damn, they were so obvious about their intent, it was almost comical, in a way.

I stifled an amused smirk and took the bait, making my way to her at a brisk pace.

"I say! Dear lady!" I said in my best Gilderoy Lockhart impersonation as I knelt next to the damsel in 'distress'. "Are you all right, my lady? Are you hurt? Has someone attacked you?"

The bait-girl pulled out all the stops and began to 'sob' uncontrollably, grabbing at me and holding on in such a way that I couldn't quickly move in case I was attacked.

"There, there...'' I soothed her as I heard the sound of rushed footsteps. "It'll be all right. You'll see. I shall protect you from whosoever decides to harm you."

She just sobbed louder to cover up the sound of incoming attackers. If nothing else, she was committed to her cause, even if the cause was despicable.

Not that I had any right to say anything. I would be called a murdering scumbag if I did the things I have done back home.

Wait, I was losing track of what I was doing.

Where was I?

Oh, right, bandit ambush.

Unto the breach, then!

I pretended to turn my head in fake shock and forced myself to cringe in fear- amusingly enough, still a passable imitation of Lockhart's face back when Ron and I threw him down the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

The ruse seemed to work, as the men surrounding me gave me condescending smiles as they approached with their various weapons.

"Heh, looks like we caught another one. This is shaping up to be a really good month." One of the men chortled, a look of unadulterated glee on his face.

"This'un looks like he's gonna piss his pants, he will." Another grunted with a heavy accent which I couldn't place.

"Make any move and you die." I heard a rough voice say a few feet behind me. That was probably their leader. "Now, get up and give me all of your valuables. Any coin, jewelry, maybe that pretty little sword at your side, too."

"I thought you j-just said I shouldn't move?" I pretended to stammer like I was deathly afraid of violence, let alone a fight to the death against a bunch of bandits. "If I get up, you'll kill me. Don't kill me! I don't want to die! Please!"

"Don't get smart with me, pretty boy!" The man snarled as he came into my view. It was a man nearing his middle age, with a grossly receding hairline, dressed in a dark brown tunic and carrying what looked to be a finely made saber. Likely, he had stolen it from a previous victim. "I'll cut your tongue out if you do."

All right, I couldn't help myself, any longer.

I let out a full, throaty laugh, which took all of the men off guard, before stunning the woman with a point blank, silent Stunner, hidden from all their view.

As expected, the woman's grip on me slackened, and I pushed her away, using the momentum to get back on my feet.

"Oi. Narin!" One of the men said. "What the hell did you let go of him for, you idiot!?"

I turned to look at the man who'd said it.

"I think you'll find that, Narin, was it? She's out cold." I smiled at the men in amusement as they gave me a wary look.

"Get him!" The middle aged bandit shouted before I was attacked from four sides.

I grinned and charged at one of the men, easily dodging past his thrusting spear and tackling into him with the power of an ox, sending him tumbling back with a few loud snaps- the sound of bones breaking- along the way, before turning and sidestepping the downward strike of a greataxe.

The axe hit the stone pavement with a loud crack, the axe blade easily cracking through the rock. I lashed out with a front kick, smashing into his face with a satisfying crunch and knocking him flat on his back. He didn't get back up.

Whether he was dead or alive was not really my concern- he'd forfeited his right to live the moment he attacked me.

I turned to the remaining three men and gave them a bored look.

The leader bristled at the subtle threat.

Good. I wanted him angry.

Angry opponents made more mistakes, after all.

"Who is this guy!?" The one to the right said. "He took Ban out without even drawing his sword! Can we even beat him?"

"Of course we can! Stupid fool. The idiots overextended." The gruff man in the middle dismissed it as a fluke while berating the remaining two men alongside him. "Any decent fighter knows how to exploit another man's weakness. Now, let's get him!"

"R-Right!" The one on the left said uncertainly, before all three charged at me with loud cries. The two, younger men, flanked me from the side as I engaged the middle aged man.

I dodged their coordinated strikes with an almost preternatural agility- I hadn't even channelled Lightning into my nerves, yet. I sidestepped the leader's downward swing, before moving forward and grabbing his hand, redirecting his sword to intercept one of his lackey's horizontal strike, all the while grabbing the leader and pushing him hard into his comrade.

The two tripped over each other and landed in a heap, having received a few cuts from each other's weapons in the tumble.

The remaining fighter tried to come in from behind, but I leapt to the side, rolling on the ground to reduce my fall damage. I got back up in time to see my attacker thrust his sword at my form, following up with a wicked horizontal slice.

I sidestepped it, once more, before ducking underneath the slice and moving into the man's guard. I threw a hard right uppercut, feeling his jaw crunch under the power of my armored fist.

I turned away from his downed form, and focused my attention on the battle- if you could have even called it one.

"Two to go." I smiled at the remaining two. "Which one of you will go down, first, I wonder? Let's find out."

A few seconds passed, as the reality of the situation began to dawn on the two bandits.

And then, the middle aged man gave the younger man a rough push, before running away. Abandoning your own crew? That was low, even for a bandit.

I parried whatever clumsy strike the idiotic youth attempted, before quickly drawing my wand and casting "Petrificus Totalus."

Instantly, the older man froze mid-run, falling on his face with a loud crack. Most likely, he'd broken his nose from that fall. I couldn't find it in me to feel sorry for the guy.

A growl of frustration turned my attention back to the young man the bandit leader tried to sacrifice. A fairly handsome youth, with bright blue hair in a ponytail, held by a red band.

He lashed out with his foot while he lay on the ground, trying to break my shin with all of his strength. For the first time in that fight, I finally channeled Lightning to my shin, reinforcing the skin, muscle and bone as I took the hit.

It rattled me slightly, but nothing more.

A moment passed in silence as the situation began to dawn on the blue haired, young man.

"But, how? Such a thing is not possible! You took that kick head on!" The man- perhaps he was too young to be called that, judging by his voice- exclaimed, looking at me with dawning fear and apprehension.

"But it was possible." I said calmly, a confident smirk forming on my face. "You didn't even pose a real challenge. At most, you were only a mild annoyance."

I let out a breath, staring at my handiwork for a few moments.

"What will you do to me?" The boy tried to say, his voice hitching slightly at the possibility of his imminent demise at my hands.

The fear in his vocie... He was younger than I'd thought he was. Shit. I would rather not kill a kid if I could help it.

"It depends." I said easily, looking around the clearing.

"O-on what?" The boy stammered.

"Well, I have a few questions I need answered." I said genially, patting the dust off of my clothes. "If I like your answers, then you won't die. If I don't..."

It was an empty threat; I wasn't going to kill some kid over being forced to steal to live.

But, he didn't know that. The fact that I'd pretty much killed his other, much older companions would lend some credence to that threat.

The boy paled and began to stammer incoherently, pleading for his life and saying he would do anything to let him live.

"All right, calm yourself, boy." I pinched the bridge of my nose in irritation. "Have you been to either Norvos or Qohor?"

"What?" The boy was confused.

"Just answer the question." I snarled, taking a threatening step forward. "Or would you rather meet your end, here and now? Cause I'll do it!"

"Yes!" The blue haired teen almost shouted in panic. "I've been to Norvos a few times!"

"But not Qohor?" I questioned.

"No. I haven't. Please don't kill me!" He pleaded when he saw my dismayed look.

Meh, he's only been to one of the nearby cities.

Well, one is better than zero.

"That's all right." I said, and he sighed in relief. "When was the last time you were at Norvos?"

"A few weeks past." The boy replied.

I nodded. His information might not be up to date, but it was probably the best I could have gotten with the circumstances.

"Tell me about the practiced religions in the city." I ordered, and the boy frowned.

"There is only one belief in Norvos." The boy said strongly, losing his stutter as he recalled the information. "And the name of the god is not known to any, save the initiates of the Bearded Priests."

"The Bearded Priests?" I questioned.

'I wonder why they're called that.' I thought to myself sarcastically.

"It is an order of priesthood in Norvos." He explained, completely unaware of my inner monologue. "The Bearded Priests effectively control the entire city, as well as any surrounding villages who pay homage to them. The magisters of Norvos rule in name, only, but the Bearded Priests' word is law. Any man, woman or child who breaks it would be met with severe repercussions, the least of which would be expulsion from the city."

"And the worst?" I got a little curious.

"You truly don't want to know." Was his shuddering reply.

"Fair enough." I said, and urged him to continue with a significant look.

He complied.

"All that I know of that particular religion is that they believe the Black Goat of Qohor is a powerful demon." The teen informed me.

Interesting, but not really relevant... Unless the Black Goat was an actual deity?

"And, are there any Red Priests there?" I questioned, just in case. "A temple, perhaps?"

"Not really." The boy shook his head. "Any attempt by any religion at gaining a foothold in Norvos' society is met with extreme violence. The Norvosi are the people who refused the Valyrians' way of religious tolerance, and warred with them over this."

Of course they did.

"Right." I said, my mind working furiously to assess the information I'd just been handed.

Heading to Norvos would be a waste of time, considering the lack of Red Priest presence there. I couldn't lose sight of the mission.

Destroy the influence of the Red Priests by obliterating their places of worship and killing the members of the priesthood until there were none left.

"I know you don't know much about Qohor as you've never been there, but do you know if the Red Priests have a foothold, there, at least?" I questioned further, annoyed at the fact that Qohor was the city he'd never visited.

It had potential; the city of Qohor was known by another name, I learned when I was researching anything pertaining to Valyrians.

The City of Sorcerers, everyone called it.

It was there that blacksmiths knew how to re-work the legendary Valyrian Steel. It was there that the Dragonlord Aurion had amassed an army to reclaim his homeland of Valyria.

Aurion, the man I claimed was my distant ancestor.

I shook my head.

The likelihood of me getting an actual army from the people Aurion had completely disappointed after the Doom was small at best.

Still.. The possibility was there, even if it were remote.

"Yes." He said. "The Red Priests are allowed to pray in Qohor; however, the Black Goat is the most important god, there. Daily blood sacrifices are offered to him."

At my widening eyes, he quickly said. "Animals, they sacrifice pigs and other livestock! On holy days, they sacrifice their criminals. And, in times of great danger and distress, the leaders of the city sacrifice their own children, in the hopes the Goat will defend them in their hour of greatest need."

I frowned, absorbing the information.

"And, does it?" I questioned.

"Huh?" The young man said intelligently.

"Does the Goat defend them when it's needed?" I repeated slowly, as if he were touched in the head.

"Oh." He looked sheepish. "All I know is, the city has never fallen."

How cryptically ominous.

Could this Black Goat be the one who dragged me into this realm? Or was it simply some kind of myth? It could be that the city had never fallen due to luck; or, more likely, its geographical location must have provided some very impressive defenses.

"I see." I said slowly, before dismissing him with a wave. "Thank you for the information. You may leave now."

"W-what?" To say that the blue haired boy was shocked would have been an understatement.

"Did I stutter? GO!" He fled instantly.

I sighed and stared the remaining downed bandits for a few seconds, before scowling and calling for Hestia.

 _ _§__ _ _Yes, father?__ _ _§__ She answered my call quickly, landing beside me as her camouflage finally came off.

 _ _§__ _ _Take us out of this city.__ _ _I've completely lost interest in this place.__ _ _§_ I hissed, and leapt onto her back._

 _ _§__ _ _Where to?__ _ _§__ She hissed back and flapped her great wings, springing into the air with a grace belying her size.

 _ _§__ _ _Just fly east, for a while. We're not really going anywhere, for now. I just need space to regroup and figure out what needs to be done.__ _ _§__ I replied as we zoomed out of the city at great speeds, the buildings growing smaller and smaller as the seconds passed.

 _"_ _ _You know, you left the bandit leader under the paralyzing effect of your spell, back there."__ Erebus pointed out, sounding oddly amused.

 _"Yeah."_ I smiled slightly. _"Hopefully a snake crawls up his butt, or something."_

I closed my eyes, sorting through a hundred thoughts and one, trying to make sense of it all.

 _ _§__ _ _What're you thinking?__ _ _§__ Balthazar asked.

I remained silent as Hestia put her camouflage back on, disappearing from sight.

 _"_ _ _Most likely, he's trying to figure out what to do from this point."__ Erebus replied for me.

 _ _§__ _ _It's simple, isn't it?__ _ _§__ Balthazar hissed. __§__ _ _Go to Qohor and destroy the Red Temple, there.__ _ _§__

 _"_ _ _Waging a one man war against an organized religion is hardly any way of making allies to fight the coming Long Night."__ Erebus replied grudgingly _. "_ _ _Much as I would love to kill them all myself, you have to admit that they consider the Others to be the true enemy."__

"And us, by extension." I said slowly, eyes still closed. "Since I possess you."

"I'm not saying I want you gone." I added quickly, opening my eyes when I realized what it was I had just implied. "What's done is done. They'll most likely try to kill me, no matter what. I've already destroyed a temple. We're too far gone to do anything else, but commit to this task... Even if it weakens us against the Others."

 _ _§__ _ _Unfortunately.__ _ _§__ Balthazar added.

 _"_ _ _Tch.__ _"_ Erebus scoffed. _"_ _ _Weakens us, nothing. They'd be hindering our own allies in some idiotic attempt at forced conversion every step of the way."__

And, he was right.

Yes. This was the correct path. Whatever good the Red Priest might do was overwhelmingly imbalanced by the bad.

 _ _§__ _ _Uh, father?__ _ _§__ Hestia hissed.

 _ _§__ _ _One thing's for sure.__ _ _§__ I said to Balthazar, not having heard Hestia. __§__ _ _We need an army.__ __I was hoping to get one in Qohor, but they have a Red Temple, there. I'd be dealing with constant dissent in the ranks if I destroy one of their sacred temples.__ _ _§__

 _ _§__ _ _Should we go back to Westeros, try to get their army here?__ _ _§__ Balthazar suggested instead.

 _ _§__ _ _Father.__ _ _§__ Hestia tried again.

 _ _§__ _ _Are you insane,__ _ _Balthazar__ _ _?__ _ _§__ I blurted out. __§__ _ _The Free Cities would ally together and destroy whatever fleet we could have mustered.__ _ _§__

 _ _§__ _ _What, then, the so called Mother of Dragons?__ _ _§__ Balthazar hissed. __§__ _ _Are you going to become her cuntboy, Harry?__ _ _§__

I opened my mouth to reply with something equally offensive, when Hestia cut in.

 _ _§__ _ _FATHER!__ _ _§__ Hestia growled, stopping whatever it was I was about to say.

I winced.

 _ _§__ _ _I'm sorry, Hestia.__ _ _§__ I apologized _._ _ _§__ _ _What is it you were trying to say?__ _ _§__

Hestia snorted grumpily, but got over her irritation quickly as she angled us downwards so I could see.

 _ _§__ _ _Look, there's people down there.__ _ _§__ She hissed.

Wow, she was right, there were people out in the distance.

Was I that distracted?

Wait a second...

Were those what I think they were?

Hundreds, upon hundreds of horses with riders traversed below in the open, grassy plains at a leisurely pace, and the numbers just kept increasing seemingly without end.

"Dothraki?" I said, feeling slightly surprised. "I've already reached their territories? How many of them are there? Thousands, at least. Maybe six thousand?"

 _"_ _ _You're counting in the wrong magnitude."__ Erebus informed me. _"_ _ _I've counted at least__ _ _fifteen__ _ _thousand."__

What!?

I pulled out my wand. _"_ _ _Homenum Revelio."__

 _A number popped up in front of me:_ _2_ _2,523._

Holy shit.

A veritable army, then?

A memory came to me, just then. Many months ago, when I was accompanying King Robert's Court on our way to King's landing, Robert had said something about these people.

About a Khal Drogo having a hundred thousand men at his beck and call.

"An army, huh..." I smiled and patted Hestia on the neck. __§__ _ _Good find, honey. Very good find.__ _ _§__

 _ _§__ _ _Thank you, father!__ _ _§__ Hestia trilled happily.

I smiled even wider at her delight.

"How do I get them to join me?" I said to myself, staring down at the army, grateful that they couldn't see me thanks to Hestia's camouflage skill.

 _ _§__ _ _They're Dothraki.__ _ _§__ Balthazar said dismissively. _§Just kill their leader, and they will follow you.§_

 _ _§__ _ _It's that simple?__ _ _§__ I sounded incredulous.

 _ _§__ _ _It's that simple.__ _ _§__ Balthazar confirmed, before relenting. __§__ _ _Maybe you need to fight a couple of the flunkies to prove you're strong enough to fight the leader? I'm not really sure what you need to do, exactly.__ _ _§__

 _ _§..__ _ _Right. Okay.__ _ _§__ I hissed. __§__ _ _Hestia. Set me down near them, little to the left, that's it. They'll reach me in a few minutes.__ _ _§__

 _ _§__ _ _What should I do, father?__ _ _§__ Hestia hissed in concern as she landed and I began to dismount.

 _ _§__ _ _Well, if push comes to shove, I can fly away with my own wings.__ _ _§__ I replied. __§__ _ _But I want to fight their leader, so I might have to fight their men to even receive the right to do it. So, just stay up in the air.__ _ _§__

 _ _§__ _ _Okay, father!__ _ _§__ Hestia said excitedly. __§__ _ _If you need my help, I'll come down and roast these weaklings for you.__ _ _§__

A smirk overtook my facial features as the deafening sound of hooves began to fill the air. §I'm sure you will.§

I began to walk in their direction.

Daddy needs an army.


	35. Dothraki 101

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2017  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 35: Dothraki 101**

Note to self, don't let Balthazar make plans.

That was my thought as the Dothraki screamers, who just wouldn't shut the fuck up, circled me for at least five minutes; screaming their heads off and waving their curved swords, arakhs they were called, in a threatening manner.

I weathered the onslaught of sound as best as I could, vowing to sock each one of these assholes in the face when this ordeal was over.

The things I did for the betterment of this planet...

I sighed slightly, the sound too weak to be heard to anyone other than me, and waited patiently as the main convoy of the Dothraki horde finally came into view at the top of the hill.

That was when one of the riders struck. A black lasso, made out of what could only be horse hair, was thrown in my direction. I snatched the rope before it could wrap around me, and pulled.

The rope was taut, but the rider remained on his mount, still circling me in an attempt to wrap the rope around me using his centrifugal motion.

How amusing.

Best not hold back my strength, then.

I pulled again; hard, this time.

With a loud yell of shock which treaded more into the girlish scream territory, the rider flew off his mount, his face becoming well acquainted with the grassy ground below as his horse ran off, quickly being followed by other members of the horde.

I only had a moment to admire my handiwork as more of the lassos were thrown at me. That was how the next minute was spent. Two or three riders would attempt to lasso me, and I would dodge it. As they pulled back their rope, another two or three riders would restart the attempt.

It only took me a moment to figure out what exactly it was they were doing.

It made me frown.

They were toying with me, playing games. Just waiting for me to tire out before finally catching me, and doing whatever it is a bunch of barbarians did to prisoners.

The horde hadn't even thrown me a second glance as they rode past. This must've been the norm for them. How many travelers had they toyed with in the exact same manner?

"Tch." I scoffed and finally drew my weirwood staff, slamming its butt into the ground in what I considered to be a challenging move.

The riders pulled their ropes back, and stared at each other. The entire horde now stopped. Not many decided to challenge the Dothraki in this way, and they were all curious as to who the fool who dared to do so was.

There was some muttering in between the copper skinned men.

Seeing who was going to go first, then?

"Andal." One of them said as he got off his horse. He was a big, hulking brute. "Fight me."

"Yes." I humored his caveman-speak as I pointed dramatically at his form. "You weak. Me beat you easy."

Balthazar and Erebus were trying hard to hold their laughs in, as the man in question sent me a glare which could kill, before drawing his arakh and snarling.

These Dothraki... This fight would be a very sad one.

They wore no armor.

Likely, their entire fighting tactics revolved around sheer numbers overwhelming the enemy. How much was individual skill valued, in their society? Did they even care?

One thing was for sure, though.

This would be a joke.

Perhaps I should teach the man a lesson.

My hand grasped the hilt of Erebus, drawing it in a fluid motion- and throwing it to the side with a bored look on my face. Following that, I took a few measured steps forward, as if to say "I don't need my sword, or my staff to defeat you."

Then, I spat right in front of him, a universal sign of unimstakable disrespect.

I didn't need to know Dothraki to know that he was cursing at me; I'd majorly pissed the guy off even more than I had already done.

With a cry worthy of his sheer fury, the Dothraki screamer ran to me, his arakh raised high as he went for a diagonal slash which would have cut deep into my chest- had I not been wearing an unbreakable shirt, or had Balthazar's scales underneath.

Not that I let the sword touch me, in the first place.

A quick step to the side, and the sword harmlessly passed me by, inches away from my body. He smoothly adjusted his grip- a well practiced move, I realized- and made to cleave my head off with his sickle-like weapon.

Practiced move it may have been, but still as slow as molasses, I thought as I ducked underneath. I clenched my fist hard as the blade flew over my head, and slugged him right underneath his right shoulder.

I felt the shuddering and crack of bone, swiftly followed by a cry of shock and pain, a thud, and the clatter of his arakh against the ground.

The man cringed, grimaced and groaned as he tried to get back up, but I rewarded his perseverance with a knee to the chin, sending him into the land of blissful unconsciousness with a few missing teeth for his trouble.

I stared at his downed form, before turning and retrieving my sword and staff, taking note of the large crowd which had formed around us in the short 'battle', if you could even call it that.

They stared at me for another few silent moments, before a booming cheer erupted out of the crowd.

I stared at them as impassively as I could, watching for any sign of ranged attack.

But no attack came.

Instead, the unconscious Dothraki was dragged off, and replaced with two others; one was holding an arakh, and the other, a spear.

These two were built leaner, more like contortionists than a linebacker. Would they do better than their previous fellow?

I readied myself, pulling my staff out, this time, but keeping the sword firmly in its sheath.

Time to see if this staff training paid off.

The two Dothraki men gave each other a quick stare, before nodding and turning their heads back to me.

I parried the first one's thrust with my staff, sending it in the direction of the Dothraki who was attempting to flank me from the left, before grasping the staff by its base and sending it straight down like a hammer.

The man managed to dodge the fatal strike to his head and had it land on his left shoulder instead. A loud crack was heard as the weirwood slammed into his shoulder, instantly sending him to his knees as he wailed in shock and pain.

His fellow stopped for a moment to stare, before crying out in rage and rushing me with the ferocity of an enraged beast, hacking and slashing at my form with a fervor I had not expected.

Perhaps they were friends? Family?

I kept him at bay with a few parries, blocks, and dodges; waiting for the best moment to strike. Eventually he would tire out, and- there!

I must've been grinning, I thought as I grasped the top of the staff with both arms and thrust downward, into the man's right bicep, making him cry out in pain and let go of his arakh.

Then, to my surprise, he grasped my arm holding the lower end of the staff, and let his right foot fly right into my face- or, that's what would have happened, had I not overpowered his grip and taken the kick on my scaled, right arm.

Naturally, his leg yielded to the superior force of Balthazar's scales, and the man fell to his knees, one of his legs incapable of supporting his own weight.

I gave the man an unreadable look, before sending him into unconsciousness with a quick bop to the back of his head, and pulling my staff out of his arm.

The women came quickly, this time, dragging the fighters off so that they could be receive treatment.

Another cheer arose as I was met with yet another Dothraki.

Truthfully, this was getting somewhat tedious.

How many more did I have to fight?

This one was astride a horse, staring down at me with a mixture of respect and disgust, before gesturing at one of the nearby slaves and barking a few words out. A man was pulled away from the gaggle and made to stand before my latest Dothraki challenger.

The slave had a lean appearance, dark,shoulder length hair, dark eyes, and a beard that appeared to be slowly going out of control.

He had no weapons, no armor; clad only in rags that did almost nothing to hide his nakedness- judging by the amount of naked people running around, I figured the Dothraki cared not for appearances.

All in all, he looked like a well-fed slave, at least.

The Dothraki on the horse began to talk in his native tongue, before looking meaningfully at the slave.

Ah, a translator, then?

"He asks who you are, and what you're doin' 'ere." The man said to me in an accent I had only heard in the slums in King's Landing.

"That so?" I said.

"Well, he did leave out a few parts involving torture and killin'." The man said in a monotone.

"Of course he did." I said, stifling the need to roll my eyes. "Is he the leader, then?"

"Aye." The man replied.

"Then tell him the following.' I smiled and turned to look at the Dothraki. "Tell him I'm here to take his khalasar for my own. I challenge him to combat."

The slave gave me an incredulous look, before shaking his head and turning to the leader and speaking in Dothraki. I watched as the leader's face took on a dark shade of angry red- heh, he had nothing on Vernon's color changes, that was for sure.

The man raged and postured, making threatening motions.

"He asked why he, the great Khal Moro, should waste his time on a pathetic wandering Andal like you, when you don't even have your own horse." The dark haired man said.

"You're editing the threats out, aren't you?" I said with a measure of amusement.

"Aye, that I am." He replied.

"Tell him that I don't need a horse to beat a weakling like him. Maybe he doesn't want to fight because he's afraid he'll lose?"

The man gave me another long stare. "A big pair of balls you have, lad. Well, it was nice knowing you."

This man was rather upbeat for a slave.

He told the leader of my challenge. When the translator was done, I suppressed a shit eating grin at the enraged look the man had sent me. The Dothraki began to mutter amongst themselves.

Calling him a coward in front of his own people would ensure that he fought me.

I think.

The Dothraki, Khal Moro he was called, began to shout at his people, waving his arms about frantically in some attempt to run damage control.

Was it working? It looked like it.

Heh. These people understood one thing, and that thing was strength.

"What did he say?" I asked out of curiosity.

"You really want to know?" The man asked.

"Yeah, sure." I waved off his concerns.

"..." The man looked at me, before translating. "He's saying he's going to tear you limb from limb, and feed your intestines to the crows and vultures, before finally pissing on your remains."

"How... over the top. I like it." I smiled. "Thank you... What's your name?"

"Eh." The man said. "No sense in giving my name to a dead man."

"Oh ye of little faith." I replied. "You'll tell me your name when I win?"

"If you win." The slave insisted.

"When I win." I insisted back.

The dark haired man rolled his eyes and went back to the group of slaves he'd come from.

The crowd began walking back, increasing the space around us. He likely needed that space to fight while riding. I looked at the slaves again, and my resolve hardened.

The crowd finally stopped moving, and things went quiet.

The Dothraki screamed a few words of challenge, and then spurred his horse on, determined to ride me down. I stood in place, slowly drawing Erebus and holding the dark blade high in the air.

He drew closer.

I waited.

He drew even closer.

I waited still.

He was almost on me.

Now! I met the slash of his arakh with the flat of my blade, using my superior strength to completely stop his momentum, dislocating his shoulder, ripping him off of his horse and sending him slamming into the ground.

The horse kept on running as I advanced on the downed man, as if I hadn't just taken the momentum from a sword strike from the back of a horse.

To his credit, the Khal got back up, and took his arakh in his left arm, staring at me with what seemed to be a mixture of fear and determination.

I did not acknowledge his show of resolve in face of inevitable doom..

Instead, I sprinted to his form, ducking underneath his clumsy, left handed slash and cleaving his left arm at the elbow. I gave him no time to process this information, as I twisted and sliced through his neck, separating his head from his shoulders as he attempted to cry out in pain.

Erebus was already back in his sheath even before Khal Moro's head hit the ground.

Cries of shock met my actions, and then-

Three men cried out in rage, and rode to me, their weapons high in the air.

"Bloodriders!" The translator shouted. "They mean to avenge their Khal by killing you!"

I gave the barest hints of a nod in his direction as I faced down my newest foes. This time, I didn't stand and wait. This time, I ran to them, Erebus drawn once more and glinting in the harsh sun above us.

I leapt at the rightmost one, tackling into him with the force of a bull and knocking him off his horse, before falling with him and driving Erebus into his heart as we impacted the ground.

Blood flew as I swiftly tore the blade out of his chest and sidestepped the second bloodrider's horse, dragging my sword through horse and fatally cutting through the horse's flank.

All the while, Erebus exuded an aura of extreme bloodlust, aimed right at my enemies.

The horse whinnied in agony, tripped and fell, no longer capable of supporting its weight and that of the Dothraki bloodrider on its back. It would die within minutes. The man was not so lucky, however; his body crushed underneath the horse he so revered.

The third man only screamed louder at the death of his comrades as he made to tear my head off with his arakh. I shook my head in exasperation, before doing to him what I did to his leader.

I met his strike head on, tearing him off his horse like with his Khal Moro- only this time, I positioned myself underneath him, before thrusting Erebus upwards through his stomach and out of his back, forcing him to vomit out blood and other, less identifiable fluids. After a moment of holding his weight with no visible effort, I tore my sword free from him and let his body fall to the ground.

All of this had happened in under a minute.

I had just completely slaughtered their four most strongest warriors using nothing but my sword and my upper body strength.

I stared down at his twitching body, and ended his suffering with one stroke. The sword was wiped down and cleaned even before the last bloodrider's body stopped twitching.

The crowd before me was now looking at me in pure astonishment.

"ANYONE ELSE!?" I roared and opened my arms wide in challenge.

A few seconds passed in pure silence.

And then, they bowed and knelt at my feet.

I blinked at the sudden shift in behavior. Not five minutes ago, they'd all been calling for my blood. Now, they bowed?

"Savages." Erebus whispered to me.

I had to agree as one of the Dothraki dismounted and approached me.

"Khal. Name?" He struggled with the words.

"..." I stared at him for a few moments, before nodding. "Harry."

The Dothraki man bowed again, before turning to the people.

"Khal Harry!" He proclaimed and raised his arakh high in the air. "Khal Harry!"

"Khal Harry!" They began to chant.

Oh for god's sake...

I made my way to the translator slave, who was looking at me in a strange light.

"Your name, then?" I smiled.

"Bronn." He replied. I almost didn't hear him over the shouts of "Khal Harry!"

I gave him a scrutinizing look, before nodding. "Bronn. Well met."

I turned, and began to walk through the crowds, before stopping and turning back to the man. "You coming?"

He followed.

A few hours later, when all of the celebrations had died down- with extremely lousy food, I might add- and night fell, I found myself sitting down by the fire.

Bronn was still gorging on some horse meat like it was the finest dish in the lands. He'd been pigging out the whole time. How long had he not eaten?

"You're going to be sick in the morning, you know that?" I said as I watched him scarf down the meat, before grabbing another piece.

"Hadn't eaten in days." Bronn replied. "You'd do the same- err... Khal Harry."

I snorted. "You can just call me Harry."

"Right." Bronn replied. "Harry, it is."

He looked at my bandaged up right arm. "What's wrong with your arm?"

I followed his line of sight, and shifted the bandages slightly so he'd see what's underneath. Bronn stared at the black scales for a few moments, before raising his eyes to meet mine.

"...The infamous Blackscale, then?"

"You've heard of me?" I was a little surprised.

"Aye, that I have." Bronn replied. "Huge bounty on yer head- not that anyone bothered to collect."

Is that so..? I supposed old Tywin Lannister must have put it up, meaning it was a non issue, at this point. The only way that bounty would still be up, is if Tyrion would be the one sending them to me; that was about as possible as pigs flying.

"Tell me more." I said curiously. "What do the people say about me?"

"Rumors mostly." Bronn admitted. "I remember talking to a man at the Crossroads Inn that said you defeated both the Kingslayer and Barristan the Bold in single combat. The bartender had told him to stop weaving fanciful tales."

"He was right." I confirmed. "That happened in Winterfell, when the King Robert was coming with all of his Court."

"Truly?" He looked at me in another light. "What about beating the Mountain?"

"Also true." I confirmed. "I killed him during the Tourney for the Hand of the King."

"No wonder you beat the Dothraki cunts, then." Bronn spat to the side when mentioning the Dothraki. "If you can beat the strongest swordsmen on the continent.

"Have they had you, for long?" I asked without any tact, figuring this man wasn't the sort to appreciate it. "If you'd heard about all that, then you couldn't have been here that long."

"Few months in Essos. Here.. A few weeks, I would say? Maybe a month..." Bronn replied, finally sitting back and patting his stomach. "Not sure. The days just end up lumping together in one big cesspool."

"What brought you to Essos?"

"I'm a sellsword." Bronn said bluntly. "Joined up with a company in Pentos after the war in Westeros broke out. Bad move on my par'. Damned captain of ours took a bounty to fight Dothraki. Didn't end well."

I snorted. "Understatement. Any of your fellow sellswords still alive?"

"Doubt it." Bronn said immediately. "Dothraki aren't too keen on enslaving sellswords. Too many and they'd overwhelm the khalasar."

"True." I said. "Why were you different?"

"I can speak Dothraki, for one." Bronn said. "Most of them can't speak a word of Common, as you could tell."

"Yeah, about that..." I hedged.

"You want me to be a translator, don't you?" His tone was ironic.

"If it's not too much trouble." I said sheepishly. "I want to lead these people, and I can't exactly do that if they can't understand a word I say."

"Aye, that much is true." Bronn said. "And, what do I get?"

"Your freedom?" I smirked.

Bronn was quiet for a few seconds. "Fair enough."

"I was jesting." I said quickly. "I'm going to free all of the slaves in this khalasar."

Bronn winced. "That certainly won't go over well."

"How come?" I asked, though I had a good idea of what his answer would be.

"The Dothraki... Well.." He pointed at a couple who were fucking in public, and then another few who were as naked as the day they were born. "They're not what you call civilized."

"I can see that." I grimaced at an old naked lady and quickly looked away. "So saggy..."

"Aye..." Bronn mirrored my own look. "More importantly, these Dothraki, their entire way of life is by raidin' and rapin'. They won't let those slaves go- not without a fight, at least."

"I see..." I nodded. "I might have a few ideas on the matter."

I got up and stretched, walking among the people who cheered in my presence. Bronn followed swiftly.

"Let's get the most important people, here." I ordered. "No time like the present."

Bronn muttered something about insane nobles, before doing as I asked. It took a while, and a whole lot of shouting, but the heads of this Dothraki army were finally here.

Five lieutenants, in all.

Assuming three quarters of the Dothraki were fighting men, that meant they had about fifteen thousand men. Three thousand for each lieutenant. A not insignificant number.

I wondered, for a few moments, if they actually planned out their attacks beforehand. What sort of tactics did they use?

Questions for another time, I supposed.

"Khal Harry." They said at different intervals of time and gave curt nods. I supposed they weren't happy with the fact they had a new leader. Ah, well. I wasn't happy with their practice of slavery.

"Kos." I said. "I have my first orders, to you."

I looked to Bronn as he began translating.

"My first order is to release all of the slaves." I said clearly.

Bronn hesitated, but said the words.

One of them stood up, looking angry, but I took a step forward, glaring at him with a cold fury. He did not relent, or shrink back.

"Such insolence." I said and walked to the offending Dothraki, before smacking him with enough force to send him to the ground. "You will obey. Or you will die."

I turned to the others. "Anyone else wish to challenge me on this?"

I waited for Bronn to translate, before looking back at the remaining kos. They all shook their heads, though the one I had smacked to the ground muttered something under his breath.

"What was that, boy?" I asked threateningly, inwardly laughing at the older man's incredulous face when he heard Bronn translating the word 'boy'. The guy had to be in his thirties.

The anger seemed to override his survival instinct, as he got right back up and started shouting at me.

"He says that you don't even have a horse." Bronn translated as he kept shouting. "Why should he follow you, half of a man?"

"Half of a man?" I turned to Bronn, completely ignoring the steadily fuming Dothraki lieutenant. "What does that mean?"

"Dothraki think of men without horses as half men. Unworthy." Bronn added at the end of his statement. "I'm surprised only one of them is telling you to go fuck yourself, really. Your demonstration must have shaken them up quite a bit."

"My demonstration, huh?" I smiled slightly, before raising my hand. "How about this, then? HESTIA! COME HERE!"

A long moment passed.

The annoying lieutenant opened his mouth, but snapped it shut as he looked over to something behind me. He pointed.

"Dragon!" All of the gathered Dothraki shouted and screeched as Hestia flew overhead, flapping her massive blue wings and causing a few bursts of wind before finally landing next to me with a loud thud.

She bowed her head in acknowledgment of me.

"Hestia." I smiled and started petting her.

"Harry- you- what- what are you-" Bronn looked like he was about to shit his pants. Huh. He'd maintained an indifferent, unflappable attitude up until now.

Dragons tended to fuck people's days up, didn't they?

"What?" I said innocently. "You said the Dothraki view a mountless rider as less than human, right?"

Bronn merely stared up at the great she-dragon.

"Well, here she is." I gave him a shit eating grin.

I didn't notice the entire khalasar dropping to their hands and knees in utter subservience until a few seconds later.

"Maybe I should have led with Hestia, rather than have a pissing contest with an entire tribe on my own..."

"Aye." Bronn agreed, still staring at the dragon. "Would've saved yourself so much fucking time, and taken me out of slavery much earlier, eh?"

"...All's well that ends well?"

"Fuck off."

"Oh, come on!" I protested. "It would have made the difference of half an hour, tops!"

"That's half of an hour that I lost!" Bronn argued. "The way I see it, I'm owed."

"Keep telling yourself that, mate." I grinned suddenly. "Keep telling yourself that."


	36. Dothraki 102

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2017  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 36: Dothraki 102**

It had been nearly a month since I'd taken control of Khal Moro's khalasar and made it my own. All things considered, I would say that transitioning these savages into... Well, I wouldn't call them decent folk, but I suppose, less bloodthirsty?

Transitioning them to that point had gone easier than expected.

I mean, sure, there were a couple of executions to get them up to snuff.

" _A couple?_ " Erebus said incredulously.

Well, okay, more like a few dozen; the idiots thought they could sack a nearby village and rape its women. So I had the rapists rounded up and gave them a way out.

If they could hurt Hestia, I would set them free.

Naturally, they all died in exceedingly gruesome ways.

Hestia had grown in leaps and bounds- her growth rate the subject of great interest to me; the Maester's documentation on dragons was scarce, but what few of it remained clearly hinted at a much slower growth rate.

But then again, whenever I was concerned, nothing seemed to go to plan. I supposed I should've been thankful she was growing faster and not slower.

By the time the war in Westeros started- more like a one sided massacre, really- Hestia was about the size of Ghost. Before I'd left for Pentos, she was as tall as a horse and twice as long.

Now? I'd say she doubled in size.

At this point, I would say she would have given the Hungarian Horntail a run for her money- and her growth wasn't slowing down in the least. It was possible that, if she lived long enough, she would surpass her father Balerion in size.

A scary thought.

After the executions, the Dothraki people seemed wary of me, as if I'd kill them too. A few came forward, presenting me with their arguments and reasoning.

They raided and attacked because they were a nomadic, war-like people. Strife and hunger was all they knew.

"What if I said to you that your hunger was a thing of the past?" I'd told them, having learned some Dothraki in that time.

They, of course, gave me dubious stares. Dragonlord I might have been, but sating the hunger of over twenty thousand people was more than a bit difficult.

So, I went to one of the food storage boxes and super-sized one of the horse flanks within. The effect was instantaneous.

Some cried " _Maegi_ " in horrified tones. Others looked at the feat with incredulity. Most adopted a look of awe.

"Under my rule, you will never go hungry again." I'd told them. "But, it is _my_ rule."

Dissent all but disappeared. Their struggle for survival had ceased to be. The only remaining hurdle was dealing with their war-like tendencies.

When I told them that we would be attacking the Red Priests in the various Free and Ghiscari cities, the Dothraki roared in approval and glee.

"Have to say, though." Bronn said atop his horse. "I didn't expect ya to have such a plan, Harry."

He was wearing the attire he was captured in- dark brown hide shirt and pants underneath a worn hauberk. His face turned to fascination when I'd restored his armor to pristine condition with the repairing spell.

His sword had already been sold off, though, so he was forced to wield an arakh in its stead. Not that he seemed bothered by it, really. He was a firm believer on not being attached to anything.

I quite admired him for that.

"Why's that?" I asked as I sat on Hestia's upper back. She didn't even show a hint of strain, anymore. I was that light in comparison to her bulky size.

"Doesn't fit a lord's way, does it?" He asked bluntly.

I smiled. That was why I liked the man. He had a singularly most impressive talent to speak the truth with a brevity and clarity seldom seen elsewhere.

"I suppose not." I replied amiably as I stared over the cloudy horizon. It was going to rain, soon. "I'll be pissing off the entire continent with this stunt."

"Aye." Bronn agreed. "So why should I stay here with you, then? You've no use for me, here, as you've gotten a good grasp of Dothraki over the past month. We'd be fighting hundreds of thousands of men, if not millions. The Unsullied would be among them, and I'm sure you've heard of what Unsullied can do to a Dothraki army."

I had heard of it. Three thousand Unsullied had held back fifty thousand Dothraki screamers. It sounded impressive, true; but tales could have been altered over time- and this was quite the long time ago, during the Century of Blood after Doom had hit Valyria.

I scoffed.

"You think the Free Cities will create alliances with the Ghiscari Cities?" I laughed. "The Free Cities can barely tolerate _each other_ , let alone the Ghiscari... By the time they even think of joining together- if they ever do- I will have already completed my goal. And, besides, can you ever see yourself not being on my side?"

Bronn considered it.

"If what you said is true..." He'd said. "About what happened in Westeros.."

"It is." I affirmed. "You've seen only a hint of what I'm capable of. Hell, you've barely seen a hint of what Hestia is capable of. Her killing those dissenters? She was half asleep during the whole thing."

Bronn looked down at Hestia, who was staring him right in the eye. He blinked first. Satisfied, she looked in front of her again.

I rolled my eyes; Hestia's antics were cute.

"Did I just lose a staring contest with a dragon?" Bronn asked himself.

"Yes." I confirmed, but frowned when Hestia suddenly stopped.

§ _What is it, Hestia?_ § I questioned and peered over her shoulder for a better view. That was probably the only annoying thing about riding on a dragon's back, you could barely see anything when you were on the ground.

§ _I don't see anything_.§ Hestia said, before shaking her head. § _Wait, there's a group of men riding here._ §

I filed that information. "Hm. Wonder what they want."

"Or, who they are for tha' matter." Bronn added in.

I watched from afar as the men took in the sight of Hestia, then of me atop of her, looked back at the Dothraki army, before motioning quickly in my direction. They wanted to talk, then?

Hmph.

A talk, it is.

"Joqo." I called out to one of my kos in Dothraki. He turned his head to me and bowed it in deference. "Have someone set up a meeting area, so that I can receive these visitors."

"It will be done, my khal." He obeyed, before turning and barking out orders at his men, who went to work immediately.

"You know, you could have set it up, yourself." Bronn noted idly as he watched the men slowly figure out the logistics of having a meeting tent- or if it need be a tent, at all.

"You're right." I acknowledged with a dip of my head. "I could have done it in seconds."

I shook my head after a few moments of silence.

"But, then, they would know what I was capable of." I added in. "Of course, these are the least of my capabilities, but the less they know, the better."

"You know who they are?" Bronn asked curiously.

"Not really." I denied. "I have a fair idea of who they might be representing, considering how close we are to Qohor. About a day's ride away, at this point?"

"Ah, noble emissaries, then?" Bronn asked and spat to the side, as if an awful taste had overtaken his mouth. "You're right. Make 'em wait."

I snorted.

The raising of the meeting tent took the better part of an hour as the men broke out the good food and drinks, set up chairs and tables for everyone to sit upon, and finally had the guard line the sides of the way to the meeting area.

"A fairly simple, if brutish, way of showing your army's strength to the enemy." Bronn said as I stared down at my makeshift throne while Hestia laid down next to the wall-less tent, showcasing her powerfully built body for all to see, while at the same time looking perfectly relaxed.

It was a skill even I had trouble with.

"When are they due to arrive?" I asked one of the nearby men.

"Minutes." He replied, shaking his head. "Maybe more."

I gave a nod of acknowledgment and turned back to the shoddy looking throne. It was a rush job of broken wood from whatever the Dothraki had stockpiled in the past. Judging from the slightly rotting smell of it, it was quite old.

With a wave of my wand, I transfigured it into a simple, yet comfortable throne, with blue dragon engravings along the dark brown, varnished wooden surface.

"Never get used to tha'." Bronn piped up next to me.

"No one ever does." I replied. "Tyrion often said the same thing."

"Tyrion Lannister?" Bronn asked curiously, eyebrows raised. "Met the wee bugger, once."

"Yeah?" I smiled. "When?"

"Bit before that war, really." Bronn said, narrowing his eyes in remembrance. "He was exchanging a night's stay at an inn for a golden dragon since all the rooms were full. Offer was too good to pass up."

Of course it'd be money related. Why did I even ask?

"Interesting." I said, filing it away for later. "Who knows, maybe you'll meet him again. In fact, if you stick with me, I garantee it."

"I'm sure I'll see the wee cunt, again." Bronn agreed with a smirk. "He 'ad good taste for wine, 'e did. And women."

I rolled my eyes and sat down upon the throne, watching as Bronn stood by my side.

"You're not going to sit?" I asked curiously.

"Ah, no." He replied, patting his right thigh. "It's been feeling a little stiff today."

"Fair enough." I said, and waited.

Ten minutes passed.

"This is the worst part of this shit." I groaned as the minutes seemed to drag on. "Just waiting. Can they get here already?"

"Your own idea to intimidate them with your army, wasn't it?" Bronn seemed amused.

I slapped a hand over my forehead. "It's necessary, though."

"Never said it wasn't." Bronn was enjoying this, I could tell.

"You never said it was, either." I countered.

"And?"

"You make a terrible underling, you know that?" I asked. "If it were anyone other than me, they would have had you beaten or something."

"Then it's a lucky thing it's not anyone other than you, isn't it?" Bronn asked back.

I opened my mouth to reply, but shut it as one my men- heh, I had men now- came forward.

"Good news, I hope?" I asked.

"Yes, my khal." The man bowed his head. "The emissaries are almost upon us. What do you wish of us?"

"Stand here, look menacing, I suppose." I replied back, catching Bronn's incredulous stare. "If they look right at you, just glare until they look away. Show me your glare."

The Dothraki complied.

"No. Fiercer. Wait. Too fierce, little less- yes, you've got it." I smiled triumphantly. "You just maintain that face and look when their eyes catch yours."

"You'd make as good a King as I'd be an underling." Bronn said, shaking his head.

Ain't that the truth, I thought to myself as the emissaries from Qohor finally made their appearance. They numbered ten men in total. Two on horseback- the lords- and the rest carrying chests- servants, I assumed.

The two lords dismounted, handing the reins of their horses to one of the servants, before striding on to me, their eyes glued to Hestia's large form behind me, before shaking their heads and focusing back to me.

"Welcome." I said, leaning back in my throne, crossing my legs as I regarded them with the laziest gaze I could muster. "Who stands before me?"

The first man, whose clothing choice bore a resemblance to the taste of Illyrio Mopatis- perhaps they all saw the same tailor?- stepped up first.

"I am Magister Tessario Melzo of the Free City of Qohor." He dipped his head in deference, quick enough for it to be considered an insult, but slow enough that it could not be legitimately brought up in discussion.

"And I am Jargo Hoat." The other man replied. He was only dressed in a black robe, with the symbol of a black goat patched on to its breast. A Black Goat follower, then?

"Hoat?" I frowned. The name seemed familiar.

My eyes widened. "Ah! Any relation to the sellsword Vargo Hoat?"

The priest grimaced. "My brother. You know of him?"

"He was executed in Westeros for crimes, I was told, which were too numerous to count." I informed him. "My condolences." I added.

"Unneeded." The priest said after a moment. "The man was dead to me, long ago."

"I believe you have not done us the -ahem- honor of introducing yourself." The Magister said.

"Of course." I smiled and stared at my fingernails for no other reason than to piss the Magister off. "I am khal Harry Potter, known far and wide as the Blackscale, and Dragonlord of the Twins."

At that moment, Hestia poked her head in, prompting me to scratch the side of her face with a hiss. I did as asked, ignoring the awed gazes both lords and all their servants gave the great she-dragon.

I turned back to them, gesturing for my men to pull up a few chairs. "Please, sit down."

They complied.

"Magister, Priest." I addressed them. "Why have you come to my khalasar?"

I had an idea of why they were here; the Free Cities gave gifts away to the khalasars because they did not want to be attacked by Dothraki.

The two shifted uneasily, before the Magister began to speak.

"We come bearing gifts for you, great khal." The Magister said, before clapping his hands.

"The noble lords of Qohor send you a gift, great one." He said as the servants carried the heavy chests over and set them before me.

"Ancient, and great, is the Free City of Qohor." The Magister spoke as one of my men opened the chests and presented it to me. "A long history, we can boast."

"Indeed." I said, taking a ruby from the pile of gold and jewels within the chest. "And quite the rich history, as well. Wouldn't you agree, Bronn?"

"Aye." He was staring at the ruby like a hawk. "Very rich- err- history, tha' is."

I snorted and threw the ruby to him. He snatched it with reflexes I hadn't anticipated. I supposed the body went past its limitations when it was truly motivated.

"That one's yours." I said in amusement, before turning to the two men, who looked confused at the byplay.

"Tell me something, Magister." I said directly, gaining the two men's attention, once more.

"Yes, great khal?" The Magister replied.

"Your city is called the City of Sorcerers, is it not?" I went straight to the point. "A city of magic."

"Ah- yes." He replied.

"What sorts of magic?" I asked curiously.

"I'm afraid I do not understand, great khal." The Magister seemed confused at the direction the conversation was going.

"It is a simple question." I sprawled in my throne, regarding the man with an irritated gaze.

"Of course, my apologies to you, great khal." He bowed his head quickly and began to speak. "We of course have powerful magics in our city. Long have we held that title, and long shall we hold it, still."

Translation: they didn't have shit.

I sighed. It looked like that particular well was dry.

" _Didn't really think they had anything left, did you?_ " Erebus whispered in my mind.

" _It was worth a shot_." I thought back, before putting my attention back on the Magister and the Priest. "And, what is your opinion of the Red Priests of R'hllor?"

"The followers of R'hllor are very devout, and-"

"-and a complete nuisance!" The Black Goat Priest snarled at his fellow. "Just the other week, they attempted to burn the Black Goat of our temple!"

I watched the Magister attempt to pacify the Black Priest, and saw an opportunity.

"I come to your city for two reasons, Magister and Priest." I said, grabbing their attention.

"The first?" The Magister questioned, eyes narrowing shrewdly.

"The first is to slaughter and convert any of the followers of the Red God." I said simply. "This would involve destroying the Red Temple in your city."

"Unacceptable." "I accept." The Magister and Black Priest said at the same time, before glaring at each other.

I rolled my eyes.

"My second reason is that I wish to include your Free City under my banner." I continued as if I hadn't heard their disagreement.

This time, their response was the same. "Unacceptable."

"It is true you have a great army, and a dragon.." The Magister stared warily at Hestia, whose eyes were locked onto something in the distance. "But we will not be swayed into servitude by force."

"Who said anything about force?" I replied, attempting a confused look. "Worry not, magister, I do not wish to force you into servitude."

"But you do wish for us to serve." The Priest picked my words apart. "By what right can you make such a demand? The only man to ever lead us in the past was-"

"Aurion, the Dragon Emperor." I finished for him and saw his eyes go wide. "I am quite familiar with my ancestor's story."

"Impossible." The Magister sputtered, looking between me and my dragon, as if not believing it.

A bit slow, wasn't he? Just goes to show that bloodlines don't necessarily mean anything.

"Oh, it is quite possible." I smiled, negligently gesturing at Hestia. "The proof is right before your eyes. Whether or not you choose to believe it.. That is another matter entirely."

"We're listening." The Black Priest said and harshly cut off the magister with a rude gesture. "What do you wish of us? Surely not to storm the ruins of Valyria, as your ancestor did long before you?"

"You can't be serious." The Magister said, looking at his fellow incredulously. "Have you lost your mind? You are suggesting we follow this stranger?"

"Indeed, I am." The Black Priest replied. "Perhaps you have forgotten in your life of luxuries, Magister, but the Emperor Aurion became so when he saved our city from the Ghiscari invasion after the Doom. Do you remember how?"

"Yes, yes." The Magister waved it off. "He showed us the ways of some of his people's magic, better ways to worship our God- and our city has not fallen, since. Children's tales told to them so they sleep well during the night."

"You dismiss our history so easily! How dare you-" The Black Priest took a moment to compose himself. "The next time you speak, is the last time you have a tongue to speak with! I'm of half a mind to execute you this very moment."

I could see Bronn was stifling an amused grin from the corner of my eye.

"Perhaps this is not the best time for such things." I cut in, trying to make peace between the two. I hadn't expected this, at all. Perhaps there was knowledge of magic within Qohor, still.

Or, at least, an acknowledgement of its existence, and possible texts on the subject matter. Something to look into.

"You must forgive this fool, Dragonlord Harry." The Black Priest spoke. "He is one of the few in Qohor who refuse to believe that magic has returned to the world. Called the dragonglass candles lighting a mummery!"

My eyes narrowed. "Indeed? How long have you known of the return of magic?"

"Perhaps.. Five turns of the moon? Seven? We are not sure." He replied.

I nodded. Around the time I came to this world, then. Or close to it, at least.

"Near the time I hatched Hestia, here." I gestured towards the she-dragon once more.

"It would make sense. The death of the dragons had caused the magic in the world to die out. Perhaps their return revived it." The Black Priest said, before standing abruptly.

I followed suit.

"We shall take care of our Red pest problem within the day." He declared, bowing his head to me in deference. "However, I cannot promise to swear our army to yours, descendant of the great Aurion, as I do not have the power to do so. The leaders of the city must convene. If you'll allow us that-"

"-Granted." I cut him off, dismissing the issue as if unimportant. "My main objective is to kill the Red Priests in Essos. While the help of your city's army would greatly help in my cause, it is not absolutely required."

"Then, I shall speak with you on the morrow, Dragonlord."

Jargo Hoat gave me a final, considering look, before nodding curtly, and turning to leave. He barked out a few orders at the Magister in what I assumed to be High Valyrian.

"He's telling him to get his sorry ass up and follow him. His title of Magister is apparently at stake now." Balthazar supplied, his learning of High Valyrian finally paying off. "Heh."

Jargo said a few words to the remaining servants, before he and the Magister mounted their horses and rode off. The servants followed.

"Oddly convenient." Bronn piped in after a few seconds, moving to check the contents of the remaining chests and whistling at the precious gemstones and gold within.

"Yeah." I agreed. "I won't have to sacrifice any of my men to destroy this particular Red Temple."

"Also that you might get an army for free- again." Bronn added in as he hefted a rather ornamental dagger, before scowling and putting it back.

I snorted.

"There is that." I said. "Who knew the Qohorik still held Aurion in high regard? I heard they rejected the Valyrians for their religious tolerance. But then, the priest said that Aurion showed them how to better prepare blood sacrifices for their god, so..."

Bronn said nothing, in return.

I turned to my kos.

"We won't be fighting, it seems. At least, not this time." I announced in Dothraki.

Joqo, who was staring curiously at the two of us the whole time, made a bad attempt at hiding a scowl.

"Cheer up." I smiled. "If you really wish to fight that much, then we'll hold a... err... _contest,_ or something."

"What is _contest_?" He tried the Common word out.

"Ah, well..." I scratched the back of my head as I thought of a way to explain it in as simple terms as I could. "It is a challenge, of sorts. To see who is the strongest, fastest, or most skilled."

"A fight?" The light came back into his eyes.

"It could be." I said, before scratching my chin thoughtfully and smiling. "Yes. I've got it. This is perfect!"

I looked around the tent that the Dothraki had so painstakingly set up for me. "Hell, we even have a perfectly good area for us to sit and watch."

"I will compete." Joqo announced.

"As you wish." I nodded to him, and began listing my instructions.

"Horse.. _racing_?" Joqo tried the word out. "What is-"

"A test." I explained, cutting him off. "To see who the fastest rider among you is."

My mind was whirling with ideas.

"Not just that." I began detailing a list of other activities to pass the time. Spear throwing, archery competitions, all while on horseback. It seemed to woo the small crowd of Dothraki that had begun to discreetly listen in to our conversation.

After all, what is more worthy to battle against than your own people?

My Dothraki minions fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

" _Suckers._ " Erebus said as we watched them talk amongst each other animatedly, spreading the word of these new competitions.

"What'll you call these competitions, then?" Bronn piped in through the excitement of the people.

"Hm." I sat back down in my throne and considered the question. "I won't call them anything. I'm sure the khalasar will come up with its own name for it, soon enough. Something simple and solid."

That night, the word "contest" became part of the Dothraki language.

Also, that night, Hestia- who I'd sent to discreetly spy on Qohor- came to me with news that a large structure within the city walls had been reduced to rubble.

I smiled as I watched two Dothraki archers attempt to outdo each other in the field.

Everything seemed to be going well.

Now, if only I could get the Dothraki to _stop fucking screaming so much._

 **oooooooooo**

 **Post-Chapter Note:**

Wootwoot.

Okay, I keep getting questions on when Harry is going to meet Daenerys. I'm honestly surprised that you haven't figured it out yet.

Hell, I'm honestly surprised you even thought that she was part of Khal Moro's khalasar, to begin with. I get it, the guy featured in season 6, but I've not provided such a large timeline for you to think that she'd be part of it. It's only been around four to five months since the War of Five Kings started, meaning canon Daenerys would have been marching to either Yunkai or Meereen with her army of Unsullied.

Knowing that fact, and knowing Harry's plan of eliminating every single Red Temple he can find on Essos, it should be simple to roughly know when they're going to meet.

So please, stop asking :P


	37. Pyramid City

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2017  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 37: Pyramid City**

Month three of being a Dothraki khal. Cultural shift was working well with the Dothraki. With silly, trivial things like starvation out of the way, it was surprising to see the transformation of the people. They probably would have favourably compared with my old world's more savage jungle tribes.

Though, despite my efforts, I could not get the damn savages to stop screaming so damn much- a failing which I will never own up to. No matter, After realizing the futility of my efforts,I instead focused my efforts on quickly learning to modify my silencing charm so that it only blocks out noise above a certain pitch.

Such a spell has allowed me to sleep well, once more.

But, onto more recent news.

Just now, the disrespectful kos who'd opposed my releasing of the slaves challenged me to a fight to see who would lead the khalasar.

He'd long chafed under my rule. The men I had executed in my first few weeks as khal were the kos' friends- or rather, his underlings. He, himself, hated the way the Dothraki horde was changing. He hated the new sports activities designed to curb the Dothraki's more homicidal tendencies. He hated the fact that they needed to hunt much less.

He hated the fact that another Dothraki khal, a man by the name of Pono, had allied his khalasar with mine and taken these sports activities for his own- with my blessings of course.

He hated the fact that Qohor had given us an army of fifteen thousand men- or, more accurately, eunuchs. To him, the Unsullied were a stain upon the Dothraki people, and needed to be slain. I ended up punishing him for it by removing his role of leadership and passing it on to Joqo, who was already responsible for thousands of warriors, already.

That, for him, was the last straw.

And so, here he was before me, arakh drawn and raised high into the air, the sun reflecting off of his well used blade.

"You are a disgrace to Dothraki!" He snarled as he circled me slowly. "I will tear your entrails and feed them to you!"

I was a disgrace to Dothraki? Well, shit, I wasn't Dothraki to begin with...

I stared at him impassively, not even bothering to draw my sword or staff. What was the point? I've watched this man fight, and while he was strong enough to be able to command thousands, he was nowhere near my own martial ability.

And he knew it, which made even less sense!

Whatever.

I wasn't going to waste any more time humouring this wanker.

Best end this quick.

"Are you going to fight?" I asked, bored already. "Or are you going to cry like a little girl, like you have been for the past few months?"

That got a laugh out of the surrounding populace.

That paltry insult was all that was needed to set the man off, as he blindly charged forward, crying in rage as he attempted to slice at my neck in a poor attempt at decapitation. I took a step back, easily avoiding the slice, and grabbed his arakh with my armored right hand before he could go for his follow up strike, a thrust meant to cut at my face.

I knew his tactics, he would try to land a cut above his enemy's eyes so that they would be half blinded for the remainder of the fight. He looked surprised for a moment, before getting a startled look as I pulled him over and did an uppercut with my elbow straight into his chin.

He was knocked out before he hit the ground.

I shook my head and knelt to cut his ponytail off, before gesturing to the khalasar and hopping on Hestia's back, leaving the useless shit of a former kos behind.

"You didn't kill him." Bronn was craning his neck up to look at me.

"No." I said, spitting to the side at the mere mention of him. "He was not worth my time."

"Might come back to bite you." Bronn reasoned. "When you least expect it."

"It might, but.." I replied, throwing the Dothraki's ponytail to the sellsword. "Who'd follow an unhinged, defeated warrior?"

"Fair enough." Bronn said unsurely.

"More importantly, I think it's time for a little reconnaissance." I said, patting Hestia on the neck. § _Up we go!_ §

 _§Sure thing, father!§_ Hestia said and stood on her hind legs, stretching her wings so that she overshadowed dozens of the horses who, by now, were no longer spooked by her behaviour, instead following their rider's commands to clear the area for us to lift off.

A few powerful flaps of her wings, and we were airborne.

 _§Get us as high as we can get.§_ I said, pulling out my wand and casting the Bubblehead Charm on both myself and Hestia, while also pulling out my map. _§This way I can figure out where we are. My Dothraki scout minions have said we were approaching Meereen, but I would just like to be sure.§_

Hestia only flapped her wings in response, raising us higher and higher until the land below us became a smaller and smaller thing. The air cooled and thinned as we went up higher and higher up the mesosphere, though Hestia's body still exuded heat like a furnace would.

"Hm." I hummed and looked over the distance, observing the landscape and noting its details while simultaneously consulting my map to compare.

"Yes, I see it." I murmured to myself as I began to recognize the surrounding area. "We're on the edge of the Dothraki sea. I would say... three hundred miles off from Meereen? Maybe four hundred. Two hours with you, Hestia. With the combined Dothraki and Unsullied army.. I'd have to account for the land being treacherous, and the lack of established road, as well as resting times... Twenty five miles a day- assuming no forced, longer march."

 _"It would take them around three weeks of 8 hour marches per day, more or less."_ Erebus said.

"Us. It would take us." I corrected.

 _"Indeed."_ Erebus continued. " _Your fascination with having your own army is amusing. But I suppose we do need them for the grunt work."_

"Exactly." I said. "It's already been a nightmare enough, getting them up to snuff so that they don't kill anyone we meet- that's how we gained the Unsullied in the first place, and the allegiance of khal Pono."

 _§He did quite like the spear throwing game.§_ Balthazar cut in.

 _§Pft, booooring!§_ Hestia said. _§All those games were boring.§_

 _§You're just mad you didn't get to play any games of your own.§_ Balthazar teased.

 _§BOORING!§_ Hestia insisted childishly, getting angry over Balthazar's teasing.

 _§True enough, Hestia.§_ I smiled indulgently as I interrupted whatever spat my dragon and viper were going to start. _§But I only host them to keep my army docile and under control. We don't want thousands of men attacking us for no reason.§_

 _§We could kill them, easy.§_ She dismissed them with a negligent wave of her long tail.

 _§You're right.§_ I agreed honestly. _§But it won't come to that. They're our friends now, right?§_

 _§Yeah!§_ Hestia turned her head to me and grinned with teeth as sharp as daggers as we began our descent. _§One of the girls loves to scratch my back._ _§_

I smiled.

Scratching her back, she called it. The woman in question was given a steel spear since nothing else seemed to even affect Hestia's hide. A sharp stick might as well have been as effective as a particularly strong breeze. Even with steel, Hestia barely felt anything.

I turned my attention back to the general direction of Meereen and pulled out a telescope I had fashioned out in my months here among the Dothraki. I had gotten the idea after seeing a few crappy Myrish spyglasses the Dothraki had taken from travelers. Gazing through its lens, I searched the horizon for what I was looking for.

"Rocks, sand, more rocks.. A river... There it is." I smiled as I laid my eyes on the Ghiscari city of Meereen. I gave a whistle of appreciation.

 _§_ _What is it, father?§_ Hestia asked curiously. _§What do you see?_ _§_

The city itself rested on high ground, boasting high, strangely multi-coloured walls, and seemed to be pretty much comprised of bricks. Its most prominent feature are the humongous, stepped pyramids which overshadowed all of the other buildings.

 _§It's really pretty.§_ I said, impressed at the architecture. _§_ _A bit of a mix between Egyptian and.. Aztec, I believe? Granted, I'm no history expert.._ _§_

 _§_ _What are Egyptians and Aztecs, father?§_ Hestia asked innocently.

Oh, right, she wouldn't know of those, huh?

I frowned for a few moments, thinking of home, before squashing that thought ruthlessly. _§It's nothing important, little one._ _§_

 _§I'm not little anymore, father!_ _§_ She sounded irritated.

I smirked. _§_ _I suppose not. Let's-§_ And then I froze at what I saw.

Dragons?

 _§_ Hestia, stealth mode, now. _§_ I ordered, and she obeyed immediately, her blue scales shimmering for a few seconds before turning transparent.

 _§What is it, father? What do you see?§_ She asked curiously.

 _§I see dragons.§_ I said, trying to process this information. _§Three of them, they're just circling the city, like.. they're playing around with each other?_ _§_

 _§Dragons!?_ _§_ She looked excited. _§What do they look like, father?_ _§_

 _§I can't tell how big they are from this distance._ _§_ I said. _§But, one is black and red, looks to be the largest. Another is green, and the third is... yellowish orange? I guess they come in all colours, then. You're blue.._ _§_

 _§_ _Can we go see them, please?§_ She asked excitedly.

I frowned and considered her question.

 _"_ _We don't know who their owner is._ " Erebus counselled. _"It could be dangerous."_

"It's obvious who it is.." I retorted. "That Targaryen girl Illyrio kept harping on about. Mother of Dragons and whatnot."

 _§I was just about to say that._ _§_ Balthazar cut in. _§You think she's trustworthy?_ _§_

 _§Unknown. Not enough information to make a judgement call like that._ _§_ I closed my eyes and felt out with my magic.

My eyes narrowed at the feeling of Red God power.

"There's a Red Temple, there." I said in English, before cursing under my breath.

 _§That doesn't necessarily mean anything._ _§_ Hestia argued.

 _§I understand your excitement, Hestia._ _§_ I said sympathetically. _§But, can you wait a few weeks for the army to make it to Meereen before we do anything foolish? We don't know the extent of the power the Red Temple has over this Daenerys Targaryen. Best not take chances, until then. You saw what happened to Robb and.. Geryon.._ _§_

 _§...I understand._ _§_ Hestia sounded completely unhappy even as she agreed with my reasoning. _§I just wanted to..._ _§_

 _§I know._ _§_ I leaned over and hugged her neck. _§You know I'd never do anything to hurt you. We'll see them, soon enough._ _§_

 _§I trust you, Father. I love you._ _§_ She said, and I choked on whatever I was about to say.

I smiled fondly, instead, and hugged her neck tighter.

 _§I love you, too. Let's go back down to the khalasar. I'm sure I can get Miqi to scratch your back again, just the way you like._ _§_ I said as she complied and dove downward.

A few minutes later, we rejoined with the khalasar and resumed our march, albeit at a faster pace to accommodate for Hestia's feelings.

"Found somethin', then?" Bronn asked when we'd stopped to eat and sleep for the night.

I gave him a scrutinizing look for a few moments, and nodded, before returning my gaze to Hestia, who was feasting on an enlarged goat she'd caught earlier.

"Daenerys Targaryen and her three dragons." I informed him while sipping on some water. I really needed to figure out how to manufacture soda in this dump.

"Good one." Bronn said, and I gave him a flat look. "...Fuck me. Three dragons?"

"Yes." I pinched the bridge of my nose and moved away from the fire, instead lying on my back and staring up at the stars above. "It was all I could do to convince Hestia not to fly over to them immediately. I could feel the presence of a Red Temple- who knows what they've done?"

"Aye." Bronn said. "Only one of their like who I could stand was this fat priest at King's Landing."

"Thoros?" I smiled at Bronn's nod. "Yeah, he was all right. Likable man, didn't constantly prattle on about the Lord of Light and how everyone should follow him. I doubt he even believed in any of it."

"Think he believes in it now?" Bronn asked.

"I hope not." I replied with a frown. "I don't want to kill the guy, after he'd helped me out. Something about that doesn't sound right to me."

Which brought another matter to me. I'd been in Essos for quite a while, now. I often wondered what was going on in Westeros, but the people here had no clue. I'd left a stone with Jon, infused with a Protean Charm to let me know if he's ever in trouble, but it never went off.

I assumed everything was going according to plan. Tyrion was supposed to raise up levies to bolster the Riverlands and North forces. Lords Stannis and Renly Baratheon were having a pissing contest, and Joffrey was executing his subjects for kicks while Cersei controlled King's Landing by proxy.

Months had passed, and there was no proper way of reaching me. I worried for a few seconds, before shaking the feeling off.

No. Jon and Robb could deal with their end of the world. I had to trust them while I did my part in Essos.

Kill off the Red Priests who'd declared war on us.

"Think that Stormborn girl is as pretty as they say she is?" Bronn asked curiously, taking my attention away from my thoughts.

"Pretty?" I repeated. "Where'd you hear that?"

"People in this khalasar know who she is." Bronn replied. "They were all part of khal Drogo's khalasar. And she was their khaleesi."

"Interesting." I said, remembering the distinctive energy signature I'd felt back in her room at Pentos. Gentle, it felt like. "What did they think of her?"

"They thought she was a looker, if a bit irritating." Bronn repeated. "Skin as pale as the moon, with silvery gold hair and violet eyes."

"Why'd they find her irritating?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, same reason they found you irritating, except she didn't give them anything in return for them sacrificing their way of life." Bronn said. "Stopped the rape of women in a Lhazareen village. Not that it did her any favors, in the end."

"Elaborate." I said.

So, he did. Apparently she trusted some kind of blood mage to help her heal khal Drogo, and ended up losing the child in her belly and Drogo in one swoop, causing the huge khalasar to splinter into many different ones- one of which was now mine.

"You think she'll consider us part of her army that she wants to reclaim?" I asked.

"Who knows." Bronn replied. I heard him shifting slightly. "But I doubt she'd let blood mages like the Red Priests influence her, not after what she'd been through."

"True." I said, having reached the same conclusion after a few moments of thought. "Well, no sense in wondering. We march."

And march we did. With the increased pace I'd imposed on my Dothraki minions, it took us two weeks to arrive, instead of the three I'd originally predicted.

Funny what adding two hours to the march did to the overall length of the trip.

I certainly made use of that time, polishing up on my High Valyrian in case it was needed- it would not help me if whoever I met up with spoke amongst each other in Valyrian while I stood there trying to make sense of it all.

If I wasn't reading, I was practicing my combat forms, as well as my magic. Progress was slow, but I expected that, having long reached the point where I was only receiving diminishing returns for the amount of effort I put in.

But, it was no matter; some returns were better than none, and this way, my skills didn't atrophy.

I could feel Hestia's excitement, today- we would reach the city in a few hours. We'd already spotted a few men on horseback, staring at the army, and then at Hestia through their spyglasses. I'd even cheekily waved at one of them while holding my own telescope, finding their reaction to it amusing.

The view of Meereen from below was more awe inspiring than the view from above. I wondered to myself how such structures were built without the aid of either magic, or advanced technology.

 _"Lots and lots of slaves._ " Erebus whispered to me. " _Think of the Egyptians."_

I frowned. The amount of labor required to build this place by hand... The city looked even more awe inspiring, though the suffering those men and women must have gone through tainted the experience.

I shook off these thoughts.

"Joqo." I called, and the man bowed his head in deference.

"Yes, my khal." He said.

"Here's what's going to happen." I ordered and pointed towards the open area in front of the city. "We're not going to have a siege or anything so silly. We're just going to stand outside of their doors. They will come to us."

Joqo frowned.

"And if they don't?" Bronn asked the question my ko was unwilling to ask.

I pulled out my holly wand and twirled it in my finger. "Then the doors will open- of their own accord, of course."

"Of course." Bronn rolled his eyes.

"I understand." Joqo said unsurely.

"Don't worry, my friend." I said. "It matters not if the khaleesi Targaryen refuses to hand over the Red Priests. We are coming for them. Inform the others."

"Yes, my khal." He gave a full blown grin and went to tell everyone the plan.

"You really think they'll just let us pass through the gates?" Bronn said disbelievingly.

"No." I replied simply, but didn't elaborate.

"They've got three dragons." Bronn said, pointing at the flying dragons overhead, who seemed to be converging around a balcony on the highest pyramid, where I briefly saw a white figure in the distance. I grabbed my telescope to get a closer look, but there was no one there.

Damn, missed my shot to get a glimpse.

"You've only got the one." Bronn said. "Sure, she's bigger, but tha' usually means slower."

"Heh." I turned an amused look to Bronn, trying to project as much confidence as I could. "You've not seen my true power. You haven't seen anything close to it."

Bronn kept his eyed glued on the dragons.

"I'm stronger than Hestia." I said simply as he and I moved to stand in front of the assembled Dothraki/Unsullied army at the city gates.

And then, we waited.

And waited.

"You know any games?" I asked Bronn out of the blue as the occupants of Meereen stared at us from their high walls.

"Like that silly board game for the highborn?" Bronn scoffed.

"Uh..." I frowned. "Cyvasse, you mean? With knights and kings and dragons?"

"Aye."

"Never liked it, either." I said.

Truth was, it had its own set of rules that I really didn't want to learn at the time. Knowing chess was enough for me. Doubtless, Ron would've relished the challenge of Cyvasse.

"What do you do when you're bored, then?" I asked, grasping for anything.

"Drink and fuck, mostly." Bronn said, before wincing. "Or at least, I used to."

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Sing, mostly while drinkin'." Bronn said, before grinning suddenly. "I know afew songs the bards would sing- you'd not like the Rains of Castamere, eh?"

"It would probably not fit with the current setting." I smiled in amusement. "Don't want to accidentally piss off the Queen khaleesi mother of dragons. Any others?"

"The Bear and the Maid-"

"No!" I interrupted, before looking sheepish. "Sorry, I've heard that one too many times."

"The Dornishman's Wife?" Bronn tried.

"I think I've heard that before..." I said, before shrugging. "Okay, let's hear it."

He cleared his throat and opened his mouth.

" _The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,_

 _and her kisses were warmer than spring._

 _But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,_

 _and its kiss was a terrible thing.._."

I almost gaped. As it turned out, Bronn had a really good singing voice.

Did not expect that.

When he was done, he got a whistle of appreciation from the Dothraki who had taken the time to learn Common. I clapped, impressed.

"Should've been a bard, eh." I complimented. "The amount of gold you'd make..."

"Not enough." Bronn smirked as he drank deeply from his waterskin. "Bards don't make that much."

I snorted. "Well, at least you've got something to fall back on, if that sellsword thing doesn't work out."

Bronn fished out the gem I'd given him a while back. "And this."

"You've seriously kept that on you, this whole time?"

"Aye."

"It's been weeks.."

"Aye, you're right."

I opened my mouth to say something mocking, but closed it as I saw the great gates of Meereen open with a loud clank, revealing two figures on horseback.

"Finally, they come."

"Two men?" Bronn scoffed.

"I suppose they're here to treat with us. I'll go talk to them alone, see if I'll be allowed an audience with this so called Mother of Dragons." I said, before shifting my attention to Hestia. _§How about we play a prank on them, Hestia?_ _§_

 _§A prank!?_ _§_ Hestia sounded excited.

 _§Yes.§_ I smiled. _§Just scare them a bit. We'll fly a few circles around them, you'll roar a few times, and then land in the noisiest, most flamboyant way you can imagine._ _§_

 _§I like it._ _§_ She said, puffing up her chest and leaping to the air, her piercing shriek making everybody wince. With a few powerful flaps of her wings, we reached the two men in a matter of seconds, circling above them in an almost bored, yet still predatory sense.

Like they were so easy to kill we didn't even visibly bother to take precautions.

Finally, we landed in front of them, the shaking ground spooking the two men's horses.

I got a good look at the two.

The first one was.. A Mormont? Wearing the plate armor I'd seen on many knights, with a green tabard emblazoned with the insignia of the House he came from, a black Bear of Bear Island.

" _What the hell is a Mormont doing all the way over- oh... This must be Jorah the traitor who sold men into slavery for a gold digging bitch from the Reach."_ I thought to myself, having heard the tale from Jon at some point. Apparently it was a big scandal, back then.

The other one was a man with dyed blue hair, dressed in all golden yellow finery which matched the golden hilts- of naked ladies?- on his dagger and.. arakh? So flamboyantly confusing...

"Greetings." The man who I assumed to be Jorah Mormont began to speak. "My name is-"

But, that's as far as he got, as Hestia threw her head up and roared, pulsing with power as she sent her flames up high into the air.

I tried to hold back a laugh at the intimidated looks both men sent me.

I shook my head and muttered "show off" under my breath.

"You were saying?" I asked when Hestia was done with her little display.

"Ah.." The man said. "I am Ser Jorah Mormont, Queensguard to Her Grace, Daenerys Targaryen-"

"And you?" I pointed to the other man, not really willing to play the title game, right now. "What's your name?"

"Daario Naharis, sellsword." He said simply as I eyed the extravagantly dressed man.

"Sellsword, huh." I looked amused. "I hope you can fight as well as you're dressed, Daario Naharis."

"Better." He answered easily, a smirk on his lips. How many times had he heard that line, I wondered?

"That remains to be seen." I waved his comment off before addressing Jorah Mormont. "My name is Harry Potter, Dragonlord and khal of the great army behind us. Take me to your leader. I wish to have words with my fellow Dragonlord; or is it 'Dragonlady', in this case?"

The two men shared a quick glance.

"How can we know that you come in peace?" Daario asked.

"Fair question." I said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're no ally of the Targaryens, for one." Jorah said. "The last I'd heard of you, you were allied with the Starks in Winterfell, known enemies of the Targaryens."

That was amusing, considering Jon was a mix of both families.

"Who said the Starks were Targaryen enemies?" I asked innocently.

"But, Robert's Rebellion-" Jorah argued.

"A Rebellion against _Aerys_ Targaryen the _Mad King_ , not _House_ Targaryen, itself." I corrected with narrowed eyes. "Surely you can understand the difference?"

Jorah grit his teeth at the insult. I thought of mentioning his resentment of the Starks for sentencing him to death for his crimes as a slaver, but that would probably be pushing it.

"Still, what stops you from using your dragon to aid you in killing our Queen in this meeting of yours?" Jorah asked skeptically, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. "The Dance of the Dragons comes to mind when thinking of a meeting between Dragonlords."

"Well reasoned." I acknowledged, surprised he didn't just rage further at my insult. "Very well."

I hopped off of Hestia's back, and walked to the two men, gesturing for Daario Naharis to move forward and let me ride with him.

"Take me to your leader, then." I ordered the two men, before turning to Hestia and giving her a quick look. "Go ahead and play with the other dragons."

Here's a stray thought; if Daenerys is the Mother of Dragons, does that mean I'm the Father of Dragon- singular-?


	38. Dragon and Warrior

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2017  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 38: The Dragon and the Warrior**

Riding on horseback to the great pyramid of Meereen was slow and somewhat tedious, as the people crowded in the streets to see who was going to be brought before the Queen.

I ignored them, instead focusing on the task at hand.

My Lightning writhed within me, asking to be let out at the slightest provocation, but I clamped down on the feeling. The Red Priests were the only threat, here. Not the sellsword riding with me, not Jorah Mormont the slaver.

Certainly not the Stormborn and her three dragons, who were flying around Hestia above in fascination. Hestia was just as fascinated, it seemed. Heh, she was almost twice the size of their biggest dragon- the red and black one.

"I never could have imagined there were more dragons in this world." The sellsword, Daario Naharis, said, chancing a look at the dragons above before focusing his attention back on his horse.

I grunted in acknowledgment.

"Strange way of seeking Her Grace out, I have to say." He continued. "But then again, I've not seen any noble dressed quite like you, either..."

I smiled, and glanced at the outfit I'd been working on the past few weeks. I'd felt the need for a change and got rid of my old outfit. Most of it, anyway; I'd fixed up my old world's black cargo pants, turning them dark blue on a whim, and fashioned a long black and dark blue coat using the leathers the Dothraki had kept. It made for quite a sturdy material, even before I'd enchanted it to be Unbreakable.

Underneath the coat, I wore a thick, dark blue leather vest over a black sleeveless shirt underneath that.

It was a look inspired by the two Devils I'd met at Temen Ni Gru- Vergil and Dante. Where they went for bright red and blue, I took the black and dark blue approach, finding it much easier on the eyes.

Still, to any of the locals of this world, I supposed the get up was outlandish.

"Says the guy in the most flamboyant outfit I've seen so far. Really, golden gambeson with golden women hilts for your swords, and blue hair? Compared to you, my choice in clothing is tame." I retorted in amusement.

A snort.

"True enough." Daario turned his head and grinned. "You don't stand on formality?"

I considered his words.

"Formality has its place and time, but too much of it is the sign of a noble so lacking in confidence in his own position that he needs his superiority to be re-affirmed with every breath." I explained as we finally reached the large pyramid. "I'm sure in your line of work, you've met quite a few of them."

Daario laughed. "All too often, I'm afraid. Paid damn well, though."

"You brought no guards with you." Jorah stated as we dismounted at the base of the humongous pyramid. I looked up and whistled at the size.

"How big is this thing?" I asked, ignoring Jorah's question. "Six hundred feet?"

"Eight hundred, actually." Daario humored me.

"Impressive." I smiled, before turning to Jorah. "Lead the way then, Mormont."

He glared, before complying. The rest of the trip was spent in silence as we passed by patrolling guards, level by level, until we finally reached the throne room.

A chilly place, I noted. It was a large, high ceilinged chamber full of splendor with tiles, pillars and walls made of purple marble. Between each pillar stood an Unsullied guard. Between the guards was a tall stairway, leading up to the Queen herself, who was staring down at me with what appeared to be curiosity shoved behind a regal air.

My eyes flitted to the man next to her and widened in surprised recognition, as did his, an event that the two women and helmetless Unsullied guard beside him noticed, but did not comment on.

Instead, the dark skinned girl next to the Queen stepped forward.

"Noble Lord, you stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals, the First Men-" Is she now? "And the Rhoynar, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea-" Really? "-Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons."

I glanced at Selmy for an instant, but he'd already adopted a visage of stone, harder than any of the marble in this room. I stifled a sigh.

Well, if we were playing the title game...

I gave a short bow and began.

"I am Harry Potter of the Blackscale." I started and thought of all the titles I'd accumulated ever since I got here. "Lord of the Twins, vassal of Robb Stark, the **King** in the North." I noticed Mormont shifting at the name-drop. "Enemy of R'hllor, newly made Khal of the departed Khal Moro's khalasar, and Father of Dragon, I suppose. So nice to make your acquaintance, Queen Daenerys. Or is it Khaleesi?"

I watched her face to gauge her reaction to my titles.

Pale eyebrows raised in a slight show of incredulity at the title and method of address I had employed, though her violet eyes narrowed. I could tell, even from this distance and angle that she was a beauty.

Sitting atop of a featureless black bench that looked completely out of place in this room, Daenerys Targaryen cut a pretty figure. She was tan, built lean- a definitive Targaryen trait aside from the silvery-gold hair, I was starting to realize- and slender, and was dressed in light blue silks that hugged her curves but did not seem to impede her movement.

She wore a strange looking crown of gold, jade and ivory, depicting the three dragon heads of her House's sigil.

"You may step forward, Lord Potter." Daenerys said.

I did so, noting that the Unsullied beside me tensed very slightly, ready to act if I decided to charge towards their Queen.

Idiots. The only one who knew what I was capable of was Barristan, and I've become much stronger, now.

Anyway, how to approach this...

" _Direct approach_." Erebus whispered to me. " _No sense in beating around the bush._ "

True enough.

"Queen Daenerys." I looked up at her. "I'm not a man of frivolous talk and useless words, so I'll keep this conversation simple."

"An admirable trait." She smiled slightly.

I didn't acknowledge her compliment.

"I'm sure you have many questions to ask." I continued. "As to who I am and why I have a dragon, and why I'm here."

"Indeed." She replied, crossing her legs and getting a little more comfortable. "You do not possess the known Valyrian traits; it is strange to see a non Valyrian with a dragon."

"Not all Valyrians possessed the silvery-blonde hair and the violet eyes." I said, giving her what I thought was a condescending smile. "But all of us retained the ability to birth and befriend dragons, however. I, for one, descend from the great Emperor Aurion, who attempted to reclaim the Valyrian Freehold after the Doom had hit the Freehold."

What I left unsaid was that the Targaryens had fled with their tails between their legs and hid on Dragonstone for almost a century.

"I'm curious." I said. "How old are your dragons?"

"Stay your tongue." Jorah Mormont said from behind me. "Show the proper respect to our Queen."

I turned and stared at the man. Hard.

"I am showing the Queen neither any undue respect, or disrespect." I smiled and took a step down toward the large man. "And I am showing you far more respect than you deserve, _slaver_."

The man winced.

I turned back to the Queen, who looked a little irritated at the display.

"Apologies for the interruption, Queen Daenerys." I gave a smile and a bow.

"None taken." Daenerys said stiffly. "I am curious, however."

"Yes?" I prodded.

"Why do you have no guard to accompany you?" Daenerys asked. "I have seen the legions of Unsullied and Dothraki that await outside of Meereen. Yet, none accompanied you, here."

I considered her words and the implications within.

"You doubt my identity?" I asked to clarify. "You believe I'm not the true Harry Potter, but a fake because I do not have a force of guards to accompany me here?"

"Either a fake or a fool to go in enemy territory without protection." Daario Naharis muttered what Daenerys was not saying, but his voice carried in the echoing chamber well enough.

I smiled.

"A fool, eh?" I turned my eyes to Barristan. "How is your leg, Ser Barristan? Healed up well?"

"As well as can be." He narrowed his eyes at me. "And you, Lord Potter?"

I smiled and briefly lifted my vest and shirt, showing the scar I'd gotten after my fight against Barristan. "Well enough. I'm glad to see you're not serving the newest incarnation of the Mad King."

Barristan winced slightly at the mention of Joffrey, but said nothing in return.

I turned back to the Queen.

"The reason for my not having a guard is simple." I explained, looking around the room. "I don't need any guards. To walk in unknown territory alongside myself is nothing short of foolish, as they cannot match my pace, nor my strength."

"Perhaps such a statement would be considered to be arrogance on any other man's part." I smiled and tried to project confidence in my words. "And perhaps this next statement will be considered the height of arrogance itself: I can most likely defeat all the warriors in this room at the same time."

Incredulous silence met my words.

"But, that's not what I'm here for." I changed the subject. "The reason for my trip is quite simple; I'm here to kill any and all who follow the Red Priests of R'hllor."

"Defeat us all, at once?" Daario sputtered in disbelief before anyone even processed my words. "A man of your age and stature?"

I snorted.

"My stature, is it?" I smirked openly. "Perhaps you should tell them of the events at the Tourney of the Hand, Ser Barristan."

"The Tourney of the Hand?" The Queen tried to get control of the conversation once more; she eyed the old knight intently. "What happened there."

Barristan looked between the two of us and spoke.

"Lord Potter defeated The Mountain That Rode in the melee." Barristan said, before shaking his head. "I say 'defeated', but it was the most one sided fight I had ever witnessed. The Mountain was utterly and completely humiliated by Lord Potter, who did not even use his sword to do it."

She considered Barristan's words carefully, her mind most likely whirling with ideas.

"Impressive." She looked down at me once more, shifting on her bench. "House Targaryen acknowledges and thanks you, Lord Harry Potter, for your actions regarding the vile man who killed my niece, nephew and my good-sister, Elia Martell."

I sensed a 'but' incoming.

"However, I cannot in good faith allow you to kill members of my city regardless of their faith, or belief." Daenerys finished, a note of steel entering her words. "It is unthinkable! This is a city of many peoples, many faiths, and I simply cannot, and will not allow members of it to be killed."

I looked down for a few seconds.

"I had hoped to solve this the diplomatic way." I said, closing my eyes. "But you leave me no choice." I looked back up, staring at the beauty on the throne.

"It will be by force, then." I said, and turned to leave. The Unsullied guards closed the exit off and stood in a battle ready position. I surreptitiously patted my hand over one of my pockets, activating a stone I'd thrown the Protean Charm on and linked with a stone in a collar I had Hestia wear.

I turned back to the Queen, who was standing with a hand extended in a warding gesture.

"You will remain here, as my esteemed guest." She said, not noticing Ser Barristan's wince, or his shifting in position. He was there to intercept me if I went for her.

Dutiful man; but Daenerys Targaryen was not my target.

I felt the stone in my pocket heat up, and knew Hestia had gotten the signal.

All was going according to plan.

The highest levels of authority were in this room. The Unsullied commander, two Queensguard- though, there could be more of them lurking around- and the sellsword leader.

"You think this is enough to stop me?" I asked, seeing Jorah Mormont and Daario Naharis unsheath their weapons in preparation for the fight.

I drew Erebus and pointed it at the ex-slaver, the blade gleaming in the light of the throne room. "Jorah Mormont. Earlier, you asked me what would stop me from using my dragon against the Queen."

Lightning answered my call, suffusing into and strengthening every cell in my body.

"To which I would say..." I had already run behind him, completely bypassing his slow guard, and drove Erebus' hilt into his back, sending him tumbling forward in a clatter of steel and putting Erebus back into his sheath as a form of insult. "Do you really think that a dragon is the extent of my personal power?"

I was answered with the wordless cries of the Unsullied around me, their spears moving to skewer me every which way. I sidestepped each thrust, noticing that they were timing their attacks in the gaps between their allies' retraction- a smart, well coordinated assault. Not to mention their complete sense of disinterest; they were completely unfazed by my show of speed.

What sort of mental training- I crushed that disturbing line of thought and focused back on the battle at hand.

I pulled out my weirwood staff and channeled Lightning into it. The staff's runes glowed with palpable power as I smashed through their defensive guard like I was tearing a particularly stubborn piece of cardboard in two.

But, the Unsullied showed their determination by hurling their broken spears at my form. I smiled and batted the remnants of the weapons away, before feeling something slam hard into the lower left side of my back, just where my kidneys could be found.

Then, the clatter of steel against the ground. A dagger throw?

I turned to see the sellsword, Daario, looking incredulously at me, while Mormont slowly tried to rise, still disoriented and hurt by the tumble he'd suffered.

Footsteps came from my left.

Ah, the Unsullied switched to very close range combat, with daggers, swords, dirks, or even just their plain old fists. The next few seconds were swept up in a whirlwind of kicks, swings, blocks, parries and dodges.

I ducked underneath a stab, grabbing the offending Unsullied's hand and twisting myself to throw him straight into another's downward swing- the poor soul was killed instantly, at least, I thought as his head fell and rolled around before stopping at my feet.

I tore my eyes away from his corpse before continuing the fight against the remaining Unsullied- or, at least, the ones who were engaging me.

Ten Unsullied had rallied around the Queen in a formation which could defend from any conceivable angle in this room. The fact that Selmy was also next to her made things all the more harder- if she was my target, anyway.

" _Concentrate_." Erebus whispered to me as I drove the sharp end of my staff through an Unsullied's arm, making him let go of his sword and fall to his knees in pain. I tore the staff out and bonked him on the head, sending him into the land of unconsciousness, before moving on to the remaining eight, who had gathered together and formed a shield wall, with their spears sticking out of the gaps in the defenses.

"Impressive. Switching tactics, trying everything you can against an enemy you cannot defeat. I am impressed." I admitted freely as Daario and Jorah joined them, turning the number into ten. "The Unsullied truly are the most versatile warriors in the realm."

"Together." Jorah called out. "Move!"

The shield wall loomed closer and closer. I did not move.

Closer, and closer.

The spears were almost on me. One of them could even conceivably reach me at this distance. Still, I waited.

"But..."

Then, I pulled out my wand and pointed it at them. So nice of them to converge together and become a single entity for me.

" _Tarantallegra_."

The effects were instantaneous. Shouts of surprise, worry and alarm rang through the audience chamber as the shield wall utterly collapsed, revealing the Unsullied, Jorah and Daario dancing around uncontrollably, and in sync.

"You are still woefully inadequate in comparison to myself."

I fought not to grin at the sight of their humiliation and Daenerys' incredulity.

I watched them try to overcome my spell in an effort to attack me and regain what little dignity they had left; a futile effort.

I made it a point to slowly walk over to every one of the Unsullied and knock them out with a simple blow to the back of their heads. The same occurred to Jorah Mormont, who'd glared at me with barely suppressed rage, all up until I forced his eyes to roll back into their sockets as he fell unconscious.

"So much for your shield wall." I said and moved on to Daario, who regarded me with a serious look which was completely out of place, considering he was flamboyantly dressed and dancing around while he was at it.

"My apologies, Naharis." I said and clonked him as well, setting him down gently. "You made for a good conversationalist. I would've spared you the humiliation had you simply stood aside. No matter.."

I got back up, and turned to the Queen Daenerys, who was eyeing me with apprehension and fear.

Then, the screams of the Dothraki reached us.

"W-what?" Daenerys said in alarm, looking to Ser Barristan, who said nothing in return.

"It sounds like the purge is beginning." I smiled and nodded to myself. "Right on schedule."

I would have to treat Hestia to some exquisite food later. She'd earned it.

"But, you can't!" Daenerys said, standing up abruptly. "The Dothraki- they'll-"

She went quiet. Was she having a nervous breakdown, or something? Now, of all times?

I took a step forward. And another, and another.

"Now, what to do with you all?" I wondered aloud as I reached the steps leading to her makeshift throne-bench. "The gates have already been opened and the Red Priests are likely being slaughtered, as we speak."

Ser Barristan moved to stand in front of Daenerys.

"Not one step further." He warned, pulling out his sword and shield and entering a battle ready stance. "Form around the Queen and protect her at all costs."

The Unsullied did as he commanded.

I frowned at him, but afforded the man the respect he was due by stepping back into the open space. I'd spoken to him many times while I was at King's Landing, and had developed a great admiration for him. He was the epitome of knighthood in the Seven Kingdoms. Where other knights would disregard their vows, he followed his.

"Come." I said, gesturing to the open area. "Another duel, then?"

Barristan looked at me with a steady, unfaltering gaze and nodded, stepping down the stairway with nothing but the sound of his armor clinking with each movement and the occasional scream in the background.

But, there was something else in the air. Power unlike anything I had sensed in this world so far- and it was all coming from Barristan Selmy himself.

I couldn't quite describe it.

This was nothing like the red, fiery but dark energy of the Red Priests, nor was it the steadily increasing icy blue power coming from North of the Wall. It certainly didn't feel like the Old Gods who spoke to me through the Raven, as I called him.

This energy felt strong, solid and forceful. Like it could withstand a thousand assaults and return it tenfold. A beautiful to behold, if I wasn't directly facing it.

"Balthazar." I muttered as the old man approached.

 **§** _ **Maximum Armor.**_ **§** I heard the hiss and repressed a snort at the reference, feeling the clicking of Balthazar's black scales over my chest, shoulders, and even on my face. §I can cover your head as well. Dragon motif.§

Barristan lost his composure for a second, staring at me in surprise, before visibly reining himself in and moving into a fighting stance.

I dropped into my own, replaying my previous fight with him, trying to remember the tactics he employed, the fighting style he used. A trickster in a battle, he could make it seem like he was moving his feet when, in reality, he was staying in place.

I had to be on guard.

"I didn't expect to ever have to fight you again, Ser Barristan." I said.

"Nor I." He replied. "But I am sworn to fight for my Queen."

"Just like last time." I said, shaking my head.

He grimaced. "Cersei is no Queen of mine."

"On that we agree." I said readily. "Do you remember what I told you, back then?"

"You asked me to yield." Barristan said. "I did not wish to, back then."

"But you did." I said, omitting the fact that I had used an Unforgivable on him.

"I did." His face turned stony. "I will not, this time."

"..." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Last time, I had to resort to an Unforgivable to control him long enough to say he yielded. I did not want to do it, but it seemed like the only way I could legitimately keep him alive.

This time, his will was as tough as the steel he bared at me. An Imperius would not work, even if I wanted to use it.

I opened my eyes. "So be it, then."

"Warrior, give me strength." Barristan said and charged, his power converging around his shield as he attempted to tackle me with it.

If that thing hit, then it didn't matter what kind of fancy armor I donned; momentum would be transferred over to me and my bones would break from the impact stress.

So, I jumped over it, bringing Erebus into a downward thrust, aiming to drive the sword into his neck and his chest to end the battle before it started. A clang of steel rang in the air- Erebus clashed against Barristan's uplifted shield before bouncing right off and allowing the old man to continue past me, completely unharmed.

I landed and immediately went on the attack, but Barristan was already waiting for me, sword thrusting at a speed I did not know anyone here was capable of.

Anyone but myself, and possibly Jon.

I parried the strike and counter-thrusted at his chest, but his shield covered that area, and my sword bounced off again. I suppressed a frown at whatever energy was clashing against my own, before engaging the veteran warrior once more.

"I did not know you were capable of such strength." Barristan stopped to regard me, impressed. "Strength enough to match myself.."

"How did you achieve this?" I asked, trying to stall for time so I could figure out an adequate counter for it.

But Barristan wasn't having any of that.

"I did not achieve anything." Barristan said, his sword already flashing away at me- it was all I could do to dodge and parry. "The Warrior smiles down on me, this day."

His speed increased.

I brought my full power to bear, the Lightning so strong that it began to escape the confines of my body as I parried, dodged, slashed and hacked away at Ser Barristan, who was weathering my onslaught with the trained eye of a man who'd been part of a hundred battles.

And his shield... Another strong clang was heard as Erebus bounced off the shield, once more. His sword and shield were qute normal. The aura surrounding them, however, was something else entirely.

A golden energy, 'smelling' of metal, blood and sweat? How could energy smell like sweat? I shook the thought off; trying to figure out the source of his energy was a waste of resources better spent on trying to beat him.

"Very well." I pushed Barristan back and brandished Erebus at him, mixing in my Lightning with Erebus' Darkness. The inky black energy turned dark blue, with black arcs of electricity flying about the blade. "Let us test your defenses."

Barristan was already in his stance even before I'd rushed to him. He parried my thrust and tried to counter-riposte, only for me to stop the sword with my right hand.

I heard Balthazar hiss in pain and soon joined him. The sword had cut through Balthazar's scales, and then into my palm.

I instinctively let go of the blade and pointed my bloody palm at him, letting loose a torrent of acidic venom.

Barristan held up his shield in reply.

With a shimmer, a large, half dome of golden energy covered the front of the man, taking on the acidic venom and dissolving quickly, leaving the both of us staring at each other, with nothing but the fumes from the venom touching the ground between us.

I rushed him again, trading blows and slashes with the man at a furious pace, the sound of metal clashing engulfing the entirety of the room. If I'd taken a moment to look at the Queen and her entourage, I would have noticed the awed look they were giving the two of us.

The bout ended with him overextending while slashing diagonally; I took advantage by parrying the strike and thrusting at his back. His armor glowed with the same power infused with his shield, but couldn't handle the full onslaught of my power combined with that of Erebus.

The blade punched through Ser Barristan's armor and sank an inch into his shoulder- hm, he'd moved so that I'd missed any vital areas- but no further.

Still, with that, he'd lost the use of his right arm, and therefore, his sword. As expected, the weapon fell to the ground with a loud clatter.

"I'm impressed you lasted this long, Ser Barristan." I said respectfully, even as I pushed the blade further in, making the man yell out and fall to one knee. "Yield."

"Never- argh!" He screamed as my Lightning invaded his body through the sword in his shoulder. He panted and heaved, trying to regain composure.

"There's no reason to-"

" **Enough!** " I heard Daenerys shout from her throne, and felt a thrum of power emanating from her direction. I turned my attention to the woman, in question. She was standing at the top of the stairs, red fire emanating from her own body.

"Let him go." She demanded, a note of steel in her voice as her fiery aura barely remained within the confines of her body.

A fledgling magical ability, then? Doubtful that she could do much damage, then.

"I'm afraid I'm not letting any of you go, not until the Red Priests have fallen." I smiled at her condescendingly even as her power writhed and begged to be used against me.

I pulled the sword out of the Barristan's shoulder and gave it a quick zap, searing the wound closed and making the man cringe and bite back a shout of agony.

"I've closed your wound, Ser Barristan." I said and knelt by his hunched over body, offering him a hand. "Go, stand with your Queen."

He didn't take it, instead standing on his own two feet and moving back towards Daenerys, whose fires had been quenched at the confusing turn of events.

It was almost unnoticeable, but the Unsullied had relaxed minutely when the possible threat at the center of their defensive formation was gone. Who knew what a fire wielding newbie could do, after all?

She glared at me with barely restrained fury.

Tch. Royalty. Always bitching about something or the other.

'Robb better never act like this.' I thought to myself as I wondered how to muddle through this lucky cease-fire between myself and Daenerys I'd somehow managed to secure. 'Because, if he does, I'll punch him in the throat.'

I repressed an annoyed eye-roll when I heard the faint screams of the Dothraki who were likely ravaging the Red Temple in this, err... "Great City".

"You..." Daenerys said, her violet eyes narrowing in calculation as her power receded completely back in her body- had she not noticed the red flames? "All of us were gathered here for a peaceful meeting- you never intended to have any terms, did you? All you wanted to do was to kill the Red Priests while keeping my highest ranking soldiers out of the battlefield."

I smiled at the logical side she was showing.

"Correct."

"Why? You could have simply come in the night with a small group of men and taken care of it, that way." Daenerys said, a note of confusing and wariness in her tone. "Why meet with us and attempt to discuss terms?"

"I could have." I admitted. "I could've gone in myself, slaughtered them all, and then left on my merry way. But the Dothraki are my people now, and I need them to head into Westeros."

"You wish to claim the Iron Throne?" She asked immediately, glaring at me.

"That stupid pile of sharp spikes and swords?" I laughed in her face, making her even angrier. Why Aegon had ever thought it was a good idea to make a throne out of swords was beyond me. Maybe I would ask him, someday. "You can keep it. No, I'm here for something much more important than the seat of power of King's Landing."

"And, that is?"

"Survival."

And then, I told them of the true threat to the world.


	39. The Keeper

**oooooooooo**

 **A Song of Ice, Fire, and Lightning  
** **A Harry Potter/ASoIaF Crossover  
** **By Zero Rewind  
** **© 2017  
** **oooooooooo**

 **Chapter 39: The Keeper**

"You'd have us believe that… _Others_ are amassing an army north of the Wall?" Was the incredulous response I got.

I rolled my eyes as Balthazar's scales receded back to my right arm. I clenched my right fist. Ser Barristan had done more damage than I'd care to admit.

"I don't give a rat's arse what you believe." I smirked as she bristled at the crass language. "I'm telling you what is currently happening, nothing more. If you choose to disbelieve my words, then that's your prerogative."

I turned to leave.

I almost got to the large doorway before Daenerys finally reacted.

"W-Where are you going?" She shouted.

I sighed to myself and rubbed at my forehead, before turning to face her once more.

"Look, I was told to approach you by men who seem to believe that you'll be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." I said bluntly, watching her eyes widen in curiosity. "They convinced me to seek you out, determine for myself the worth of the _Mother of Dragons._ " She almost flinched at the mocking tone.

I spat to the side; a universal show of disgust.

"I'd rather have able bodied soldiers, instead." I turned to walk away once more, before the ground began to shake.

"What…" I said before the tremors increased in intensity and made me lose my footing. I stumbled a few steps forward and heard a multitude of thuds as the many guards who were still standing fell down.

I used my weirwood staff as a crutch to weather the shaking ground and wait for the tremors to stop.

But they did not.

They increased in intensity, once more.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Daenerys sounded both angry and fearful, and her newly awakened power lashed out at a nearby Unsullied guard who had somehow retained his footing, sending him flying down the stairs in a crumpled, lightly burned heap. Daenerys gasped as she stared at what she'd done to her loyal subject.

"How—what—" She was at a loss for words as the soldier slowly tried to get up.

Overwhelmed by the current situation and her own awakened powers.. No one could blame her for losing focus of everything. I would have done the same.

Nonetheless, I still scoffed. Some unflappable Queen this was.

"Your Grace!" Selmy broke her out of her stupor by grabbing her shoulders in a surprising show of vehemence. "We must find the cause of these tremors!"

"I-Ser Barristan?" Her eyes slowly focused on the old man.

"Yes, your Grace. We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted!" His tone was almost beseeching.

The shaking lessened slightly, enough for me to begin scanning my surroundings. Tendrils of Lightning exited through my body, tasting at the air around me.

"Whatever it is, it is in the direction of the Red Temple." I muttered to myself. "The Dothraki can't be capable of this. They're just mounted soldiers."

 _§Perhaps Hestia is the cause?§_ Balthazar hissed to me.

"Hestia is incapable of such levels of power." I shook my head.

And neither am I, I didn't dare say out loud. What the hell was going on?

" _This is beyond our calculations._ " Erebus stated in a monotone. His blade writhed within his sheath.

I felt trepidation and grudging admiration rolling off the sword.

"The Red Priests did this?" I said a little louder, unaware that it was catching the attention of all in the room.

" _Their power has somehow inconceivably increased exponentially._ " Erebus said calmly, none of the anxious feelings coming through his speech. " _It is almost akin to when you made use of your attack from the clouds."_

He was talking about Kirin. My blood went cold.

" _Incredible amounts of power, condensed into a singular, small form."_ Erebus said. " _You know as well as I the implications."_

Denser energy; it would increase the construct's physical abilities tremendously, as well as its magical abilities. It was like a focused blade, able to cut through anything compared to the large stick which could only batter and bludgeon.

"What could the shadow fire god scrounge up from the Earth.. Oh, no." I said, realization slowly dawning on me.

" _Yes. What is lava and magma, if not another form of the fire element hidden deep within the darkness of the Earth?"_ Erebus said.

"R'hllor can even bend the lava to his will…?" I said, my eyes darting left and right as I tried to make sense of the situation.

" _Likely the shaking_ _we are feeling is some kind of underground volcano exploding._ " Erebus mused. " _These Red Priests must have coaxed it into erupting."_

"Of all the- don't they have any thought of what might happen if they were wrong? Even the slightest miscalculation-" I stopped myself.

The slightest miscalculation would send us into a fiery doom.

 _§Fire worshippers. If they made a mistake and died, the whole city would be sacrificed to their god.§_ Balthazar reasoned.

I let out a long suffering sigh, and turned back to the Queen.

"Do you believe me about the Red Priests, now?" I asked.

She glared at me from her throne-bench, fire swirling around her but not harming anyone. Instinctive control, not even ten minutes after her own awakening? Maybe she wasn't all talk, after all.

"And why should I believe you?" She retorted, visibly reining in her power. "For all I know, this could be an elaborate deception concocted by you."

I bit off an angry retort, and took a deep breath, instead.

"Very well. Goodbye, Mother of Dragons." My tone was distant and clipped as I gave her my final words.

I leapt to the nearest window, before jumping off. I stifled an amused snort at her loud gasp at my 'suicide' as wings of Lightning burst forth from my back, angled in such a way I would be gliding to the Red Temple.

As soon as I got clear of the large pyramid, I saw what the total effect of the earthquake was. The Red Temple was now a large crater with magma and lava bursting from its epicenter. Stranger still, it was flying around, spiraling around a mass to the side.

Coalescing into something.

A construct made out of molten rock?

Its power was increasing. I noted the fleeing Dothraki as well as Unsullied and winced. How many of them had died in this effort? Was Bronn all right?

Bah, the guy wasn't suicidal; he was probably in the outskirts of it. Hell, he could have snuck out to a brothel.

A screech from above got my attention.

I looked up to see Hestia and Daenerys' three dragons, still battling it out. Flapping my wings sent me soaring upwards. The four dragons looked weary from battling so constantly, but it seemed as if Daenerys' dragons were overpowering my Hestia thanks to their numbers and pack instinct.

I grinned as I got to Hestia and floated next to her.

 _§Father!§_ She hissed gladly as she slammed her tail into the smallest dragon, sending him flying down and giving her room to breathe.

 _§These runts bothering you?§_ I asked in amusement as the other two dragons, the red and black one, as well as the cream and golden one. _§I'll take the one on the left, you get the one on the right.§_

 _§No fair, I want the biggest one!§_ She whined, but obeyed regardless, flying headlong into the cream colored dragon.

The red/black one tried to flank her, only to be struck in the eye with a bolt of Lightning.

§ _Where do you think you're going, whelp?§_ I smirked as it snarled at me, opening its maw wide and sending a large stream of flame at me.

I twisted my body in midair and allowed myself to fall clear of the flames, my wings allowing me to glide under its body. My staff was already in my right hand, a swirling drill of Lightning already at its tip.

" **Edge**!" I drove the staff into the dragon's underbelly, hearing a loud screech as the energy strove to pierce through its scales. I suppressed a wince as the dragon roared in defiance, and then pain.

This attack could even pierce Hestia. A younger, weaker dragon stood no chance. I pulled the staff out and flew back, watching as the black dragon struggled to stay afloat while trying to stem the flow of its blood.

Eying me with hateful eyes, the dragon gave up on its fight with me, just in time for the green one to make its reappearance. It was directly below me, and moving straight at me.

I lazily drifted forward, feeling the rush of air as the dragon completely missed its mark, its wings furiously batting as it turned around to try and kill me the same way its larger brother did.

It got a staff-enhanced **Breakdown Fist** right in its snout for its trouble. I felt its jaw shatter from the impact as it was sent flying downwards.

I winced. I hadn't watched my strength.

With no hesitation, I dove after it, pulling out my wand and casting the same spell Dumbledore had cast on me a few years ago.

" _Arresto Momentum!_ " The green dragon slowed down, but not fast enough to be unharmed by the impact. Its pained shrieks filled the air as I stared down at its broken form.

It was alive, its mother would nurse it back to health.

And the third one was- **SMASH** \- I heard a smash off to the side and turned my head to see Hestia flying away from a pile of rubble. Looks like she was done, as well.

 _§Nice work!§_ I praised the She-Dragon, before adopting a serious expression on my face. _§But that was only the beginning.§_

 _§What do you mean, Father?§_ Hestia asked in confusion. _§There are more dragons to fight? I thought you said these are the only ones.§_

I shook my head and pointed to where I felt the horrid black and fiery energy. _§You're right; these are the only dragons. We have bigger,_ different _problems right now.§_

 _§What could possibly be stronger than-§_ Hestia stopped her reply short as she turned her head abruptly to the direction of the vile energy coalescing near us.

"Do you feel that, Erebus?" I said, landing on a pile of rubble below me and retracting my wings. Hestia landed with a loud thump next to me.

" _Yes._ " Was all that Erebus replied with.

 _§Even I feel it.§_ Balthazar interjected.

" _By my estimate, it has more magical power than all of us combined, five times over._ " Erebus added in. " _Not that Hestia could damage it. It is fire incarnate. Fire is of no use here."_

"So, what do we _do_?"

" _Run, preferably."_ Erebus replied as a gaggle of Dothraki rode to us, running away from the creature which was still slowly forming together and moving around in a different neighborhood. Not close enough to be an immediate danger, but not far enough to be written off.

"Khal Harry!" They shouted in Dothraki. "There is an unnatural beast!"

I nodded. "I know it's here. I felt its power building."

That seemed to throw them for a loop, but I kept going. "What happened? Were any of you there when it formed?"

"This one was." Said one of the men in the back. I nodded and waved him over.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Gakho." He said promptly.

"Tell me what happened, Gakho." I ordered, and he complied.

"We stormed the pathetic temple as you said, leaving the slave-children to escape and killing the foul priests." He began. "They threw themselves at our weapons, fearlessly. Foolishly, we thought. What man does not stand fighting?"

He looked down, his face shadowed but still showing almost insane fear.

"We were the fools. That creature, it was spawned with their blood." He finished, shaking what I would imagine to be horrible memories off.

"How many of our men have perished?" I asked bluntly.

"I do not know." Gakho said unsurely. "Thousands. This I know."

I felt the rumbling of the ground increase in intensity. The creature was getting near. The other men picked up on it, as every single one, both my Unsullied and Dothraki, went white with fear. Something even the mentally conditioned Unsullied were afraid of?

"Go, safeguard our comrades." I ordered the men and walked past them, in the direction of the monster. "I'll obliterate this abomination."

"Yes, my Khal." Gakho and the other bowed for a moment, before charging off with their signature screams.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." I swore at their backs. "STOP SCREAMING!"

They didn't reply. My eye twitched. Were these fuckers ignoring me!?

 _§Some things you just can't change, I suppose.§_ Balthazar offered.

I rubbed at the bridge of my nose, and smiled. I needed that bit of levity. We weren't even at a hundred percent, and we were about to face the strongest being in this world, to date.

"Hestia." I addressed her. "I—Wait, are you _shaking_?"

 _§N-no, father. I-I-§_ She tried to hiss back at me, but couldn't form the words.

She was scared? No, she wasn't just scared; she was _terrified._

And, why shouldn't she be?

This was a creature being controlled by another demonic entity, thousands of years old.

Hestia was, what? Less than six months old, at this point?

Dragons were prideful, but they were in no way, arrogant, or stupid.

This was the natural reaction. They had a fight, or flight instinct like every other animal.

I closed my eyes for a moment to collect myself and opened them again.

"Hestia." I smiled at her and beckoned her to me. She approached me, shaking all the while, even as I gently placed my hand over her snout. Not even my touch could calm her. "It's all right, little one. You've done your part. I want you to get out of the city, as fast as you can."

 _§B-but, father!§_ She tried to protest, tried to fight against her very instincts. _§I can't leave you here! I want to help! Even if-§_ She stopped short.

 _§Even if it kills you?§_ I finished for her. _§That's what you wanted to say. I want you to stay alive. You can't hurt this thing. Only Erebus, Balthazar, and I have any sort of chance against it.§_

Wait… An idea came to mind.

Hestia couldn't directly damage it, but…

"Heh. Hehehe…" I grinned suddenly. "You can still help me, Hestia."

 _§I can?§_ She replied.

"Yes." I took a deep breath, feeling confidence once more. "You'll still have to get out of the city, but here's what you'll do, instead." I relayed my plan to her, as well as Erebus and Balthazar.

" _That… could work."_ Erebus said, sounding like he was grudgingly impressed.

 _§Best chance we got.§_ Balthazar agreed.

 _§All right, Father. You can count on me!§_ Hestia hissed before taking to the air with her typical chirp.

"There she goes." I smiled. "That should get her out of the way and give us a fighting chance against the creature."

" _Whatever little chance we ha—here it comes._ " Erebus was saying, before interrupting himself. " _Prepare yourself!"_

The ground shook with each step this creature took, though it was not yet in sight.

Even so, I could see the effects of its presence. The air became sweltering for a moment, before Erebus counteracted its effects with his own aura. A reddish glow was emanating from the street corner ahead of me. With another rumble, I saw it emerge.

It was a storey tall, surrounded by hellfire and turning the ground beneath it into lava. Its exterior was cracked and craggy, its cracks burning white from an inner fire which had to be thousands of degrees hot.

It took note of my presence, and roared, sending a wave of fire in all directions, setting the entire neighborhood ablaze. With a fluid draw, I cut through the wave with Erebus, sending a wave of Darkness crashing against the creature's legs, the energy hissing as it came into contact with the molten rock and the flames.

And, yet, the creature—I had to give it a name, didn't I?—moved forward, implacably.

Erebus' Darkness had had no effect on it. I dashed backwards, avoiding its almost negligent stomp on my former positing, sending earth and lava flying up high in the air. With another swing of my black sword, I turned the flying magma into cold rock as I continued to retreat from its form.

Analysis time.

"It is powerful enough to withstand a **Dark Stream** , an attack supposed to be its direct elemental opposite, and shrug it off like nothing." I muttered as I flanked it and sent another **Dark Stream** , this time right in its face. Again, it did not even seem to notice.

I narrowly avoided its arm as it tried to swat me away like a fly. I felt its tremendous flash of heat as the arm flew by, bits of magma and lava flying at me. I winced as a few pieces landed on my left arm and right cheek, feeling the flesh sizzle before I shook the pieces off.

"It is not completely solid. Part of it is in a fluid state? No, it's more like the state between solid and fluid. And intermediary stage." I suppressed another wince as I quickly put some burn salve on my cheek and arm, not even taking the time to be gentle.

I gained some more distance, before pointing my right palm at it.

"Balthazar?"

The hole in my palm opened and shot a spray of corrosive venom at the creature. I heard the liquid sizzle as it made contact—was it working? But, the creature kept moving towards me, likely not even feeling the effects of the venom.

"Possibly incapable of feeling pain." I noted grimly as I ran towards it, spraying it with Balthazar's venom at point blank range. I just had enough time to sidestep an enraged kick and dash behind it as it attempted to simply drop its massive body on top of mine. It crashed into the ground, turning it into a crater filled with lava.

I took a deep breath as I watched it slowly get back to its feet and make its way to me again. That was close. A bit too close for comfort, actually.

"The venom does not last long enough to damage it in any meaningful way." I added, noting what I saw when I had doused it the second time. "Likely, its flames burn so hot that the liquid is instantly evaporated. So, using venom is a waste of Balthazar's skills."

 _§Thanks for the vote of confidence.§_ The viper hissed wryly.

"Quiet, analyzing this thing." I admonished. "So, what do we know?"

" _Extremely strong, but slow. If we get hit even once, we're dead."_ Erebus laid it out for me. " _Both my Dark Stream and the annoyance's venom are useless. It seems Hestia is our only chance, here._ "

" _ **Putting your faith in a creature of flame to defeat me? How simple-minded…"**_ The creature spoke in mirth, shocking me.

"You can talk!?" I said, before shaking my head incredulously. Of course it could talk. No being with that kind of power would be a mindless drone. "I assume you are R'hllor, then?"

" _ **In a way, puny mortal."**_ The creature said haughtily. " _ **I am the fire deep within the darkness and the Earth. His might is with me. You shall be yet another sacrifice to further His greatness.**_ "

So this was a servant.

Of _course_ an insane megalomaniac of a Demon would have servants.

"What's your name, then?" I said, trying to stall for time. Make it talk. "I'd like to know who it is I bear the honor of fighting."

The powerful creature rumbled as it slammed both arms into the ground, sending a wave of lava flying in all directions. Another swing of Erebus cut right through the wave, keeping me safe.

" **You survived? Impressive.** " It praised, before addressing me. " **I am called Xaphan. The Keeper of R'hllor's deep furnaces."**

"The keeper of the furnaces." I repeated idly. "I'll call you Keeper. Xaphan sounds too ridiculous."

" **It matters not what name you bestow upon me, mortal."** Keeper replied dismissively as it began to charge me once more. **"You too shall soon join the rest of the sacrifices and take your rightful place among them.** "

My lip curled as I forced down the snarl threatening to appear on my face. Wings of Lightning erupted from my back as I drew the weirwood staff and held it at the ready. If Erebus or Balthazar were of no aid, then I only had my Lightning to draw on.

"Erebus, Balthazar—"

" _Counteracting his heat._ " Erebus replied as an aura of cold formed around me.

 _§Maximum armor.§_ I felt the scales cover my entire body once more.

The demonic entity stopped to stare at me in curiosity.

"Keeper of the Furnaces." I addressed the foul creature. "I am the Lightning Dragonslayer—though, perhaps today I shall gain the title of Demonslayer?"

It rumbled a few times; I realized it was laughing at me.

" **We shall see, mortal. We shall see."** It said, before leaping high in to the air, condensing itself into a large ball of molten rock and falling towards me with worrying speed.

I took to the air, dodging its physical form and feeling its terrifying heat clash with Erebus' aura. It slammed into the ground, sinking the entire _district_ below me in a huge wave of lava.

"It-it wiped out dozens of buildings in a single hit!" I was about to say something further, but was forced to swerve to the right as it regained its initial form and spat out large amounts of lava at me. With a twist and a slash, Lightning erupted from the weirwood staff, cutting right through the lava and impacting against the Keeper's rocky body, sending it stumbling back with a groan of exertion.

I had cut it!

" **So, you have a bit of power, then?"** It acknowledged as the cut I made closed up instantly. I suppressed a face palm. It was part liquid. Physical attacks would be useless, wouldn't they? " **But you will never defeat me with such an attack."**

This fucker can shit-talk with the best of them, huh?

But he didn't understand what this meant. I could hurt him. I'd thought his energy was so condensed that mine would have no effect. After Erebus' Darkness had no effect, I made the mistake of assuming my own power would have no effect, either.

The problem with that logic was that Erebus' **Dark Stream** could not be shape manipulated in any form. It was a stream of pure Darkness, meant to overrun any lesser creatures and consume their essence. My Lightning, on the other hand, was susceptible to shape manipulation.

If the monster was a regular human's size, then I would have had no chances, whatsoever. Did he pick this form out of arrogance? Just so he could be taller than the "puny mortals"?

Thank R'hllor for idiotic servants, then!

"Condense the power…" I muttered as my Lightning collected at the tip of the weirwood staff, shaping itself into a vibrating axe blade. With a wild grin, I flew towards the Keeper, dodging past its swipe and cleaving its arm off at the elbow.

I didn't wait to watch its reaction, as I created a foothold in mid-air, and used it to launch myself above it, driving the staff downward with all of my strength.

" **Sever!** " I roared as I cut the creature vertically in half, flying away before its body hit the gigantic pool of lava, sending it splashing high in the air.

I panted as I fell to a knee. That last attack took a lot more out of me than I thought it would.

 _§You got it!§_ Balthazar celebrated.

" _You fool!"_ Erebus chided the viper. " _Can you not feel its power? It is still there."_

 _§He cut it in half! How can it still be alive?§_ Balthazar argued.

" **Ha ha ha ha!"** Its laugh was as slow as it was, but it was also deliberate. Its severed parts melted into the pool of lava, before its form rose up from the lava's surface, looking completely unharmed. " **I commend you for your effort, human."**

Oh, fuck me. I thought to myself. Can this thing even be killed?

" _Yes, it can."_ Erebus re-assured me, his confidence bleeding through the blade and bolstering my own. " _I have been monitoring its energy levels. Your slash forced it to expend a fifth of its energy to regenerate its parts."_

A fifth was good. I just had to land four more slashes and I'd win. No, I shook my head. This wasn't some run of the mill moron. I doubted the same trick would work twice.

" **But you shall not be able to touch me again.** " It promised as it sent out waves of lava everywhere, trying to hit me. I cut through wave after wave, feeling my energy levels lessen with every attack dodged, every wave cut and thrown aside.

Any time it seemed I was getting close to the Keeper, it would laugh and sink into the pool of lava below it, completely merging with it and making it immune to all attacks. I could not hit it fast enough before it de-materialized.

How annoying.

My reserves had become so low, that I could slash it again just one more time.

I wished I'd had time to rest from my fight with Ser Barristan.

" **It seems you have reached your limit, mortal.** " The Keeper bragged as it resurfaced from the molten lava. " **What will you do, now? Will you continue to fight in a pointless struggle against the might of R'hllor? Will you wield that abominable sword, once more? Or… Will you run?"**

I rushed at it, intent on cleaving it in half again; but this time, it was prepared. I had a split second to react as the ground beneath me erupted in a huge splash of lava. I escaped, unharmed, but my staff…

" **And so you lost your most valuable weapon, turning your situation even more hopeless than it already was."** The Keeper taunted as it stayed in the pool of lava. **"You did not think I could not force myself through the Earth to strike at you? How foolish. Though, I commend you once more for somehow escaping my attack unharmed."**

I stared at the burning remains of the weirwood staff in silence, before turning to face the molten creature. My hand edged towards Erebus as I looked up to the sky in a mixture of calm and despair.

" **How predictably dull.** " The Keeper sounded almost disappointed. " **Even if you get close enough with the blade, I will force the ground below you to erupt. Nothing has changed. Cease your resistance, mortal. Join our Great Lord R'hllor; he shall eradicate the Great Other and lead us all towards a world of Light and Fire."**

I stared back at the demon, as if I was seriously considering its answer, before taking my hand off Erebus' sheath, and reaching to grab my wand, instead.

Given the circumstances, this was probably the only thing I could do to damage it. With a simple jab, I shouted " _Aguamenti Maxima!"_

What came out was a veritable torrent of water which collided with the large demon, sizzling as clouds of steam billowed up into the sky. I heard it scream in pain as I kept feeding as much power as I could to the spell, ignoring the searing heat of the steam clashing against Erebus' aura—and winning, leaving slight burns all over my body.

A minute later, I was finally forced to stop channeling the spell, having almost completely exhausted my reserves. Hopefully that did _some damage_. The steam finally cleared, after half a minute of waiting; the previously red-hot lava had been cooled down and turned a shiny black.

"Obsidian." I muttered. "I turned it into-" But that was as far as I got, before the obsidian cracked, bright white glowing through the fissures.

With a mighty roar, the obsidian flew everywhere, slicing through and scratching up whatever was left standing in the fight between myself and the Keeper— including me. Balthazar's scales managed to deflect all of the shards, though the blunt force impact did its own damage to me. I knew I would have at least ten new bruises if I got to walk away from this fight.

Key word: if.

" **Did you think you could get rid of me so easily, mortal?"** the Keeper taunted as it rose from the lava. " **Your use of water was certainly unexpected, but ultimately a futile effort. You were only able to transform the very outer layer of molten rock into obsidian. The rest was kept safe."**

I stared at the monster, saying nothing in return, my head slowly bowing in what seemed to be defeat.

" **No answer? Has your spirit been broken, then?"** The large creature rumbled in thought as it slowly made its way toward me. " **Very well. I see no reason to toy with you any further. Have you any last words? Choose them carefully, mortal. You may even be allowed to convert to being His follower."**

Thunder roared above, but the demon paid it no heed as it stood before me in all its might.

"There is one word that comes to mind." I looked up at it, forcing myself to keep my face straight.

" **And, what would that be? Mercy?"** The Keeper asked mockingly.

My hand sparked, sending a bolt of Lightning up towards the heavy clouds above which had been forming ever since this fight started. The Demon looked up, curiously wondering why I blew the last of my reserves to shoot a bolt into the sky.

I brought my hand down, guiding the Lightning of the storm clouds down.

" **Kirin!"**

The resulting roar would be heard for miles around, I thought as I watched the world explode in a blinding flash of light.


End file.
